


Dirty Laundry

by br0jangles, carnivorousBelvedere



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - College/University, Denial of Feelings, First Time, M/M, Slow Burn, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:26:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23639806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/br0jangles/pseuds/br0jangles, https://archiveofourown.org/users/carnivorousBelvedere/pseuds/carnivorousBelvedere
Summary: Karkat's obnoxious new student makes him question his sanity, while Dave's hot new professor makes him question his sexuality.
Relationships: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas
Comments: 16
Kudos: 121





	1. Chapter 1

Today is the first day of the semester. Unfortunately for Karkat Vantas, instead of the usual 15 students he’s supposed to be limited to for the English Literature since 1800 class, he has 30, because Prof. Green is on maternity leave.

Don’t get him wrong, he’s happy for her, but the fact that the department couldn’t so much as spare his untenured ass a single TA in her stead is the reason why he standing in front of those 30 students with gritted teeth.

This is going to be quite the semester, and he’s still expected to lead a Chicano Lit and then a Special Topics class, of which he is focusing on comparative studies in the 21st century.

Oh, does he have a lot of opinions on literature of the 21st century.

Aaaand he also can’t forget that he’s helping two MA students with their narrative capstone projects, just like he did himself only a few years ago.

God, why does he always to this to himself.

At least at 33 he’s made himself indispensable to the university of his employ, which is more than he can say for some of his peers. His post semester reviews are always exemplary across the board, though he absolutely refuses to check his Rate My Professor page, which in the academic airwaves tends to a taboo topic.

Most of the reviews tend to be about the university’s hot-or-not, which Karkat could not care at all about. He’s here to teach, not to be ogled at, not that there is much to ogle at in the first place.

That’s also probably the reason he is chronically single, though his few friends have made the argument that it’s just because he _works so goddamn much._ They can’t so much as get him on a single date nowadays.

In any case, the class he is about to begin is an introductory class. This means that other majors are required to take it outside of the Lit majors. These tend to be Karkat’s least favorite students, because their end goal is to get whatever B+ he’s eventually expected to throw at them and go on their way. Then of course there’s always that one premed that can’t deal with the B+, but Karkat will get there when he gets there.

“Hello everyone,” he says promptly as the clock hand in the back of the room passes 12:30 pm on the dot, smoothing a hand down the front of his long sleeve button down.

Usually he would be given a classroom for 15, instead he got a _lecture hall._ This is… different. A nice different. His voice does seem to project nicely over the seats.

“Welcome to Lit 261. If that number isn’t familiar to you, you’re probably in the wrong place. I am Professor Karkat Vantas and I will be teaching you this semester. I’ve already emailed you the class syllabi, and I’m not going to waste your time going over the same procedures I know you’ve already heard at least three times this week, so no, you’re not getting out early.” 

He clicks the remote in his hand and skips over the BS slides he’s supposed to go over but always skips, purposefully ignoring a student in the tenth row with their hand up.

“Today we begin with George Eliot.”

It’s the first day of the semester, and Dave is already running late.

He had woken up early that morning. 7:00AM was plenty early enough to make it to his first class at 12:30. At least, that’s what he thought when sat down with a bag of breakfast doritos and started rewatching the first season of The Irishman.

Suddenly it was 12:00 and he hadn’t even brushed his teeth yet.

As he throws on a clean set of clothes and runs out the door, he realizes that he doesn’t know what his first class even _is._ Or where it is. Or who’s teaching it. Really, honestly, he is wholly unprepared for this semester and he needs to get his shit together.

He’s a good student, usually, but it’s hard for him to take a lot of things seriously. And now that he knows that his first class is Literature, taught by a Professor Karkat Vantas, with a five star rating, he’s even less excited. 

Literature classes are the _worst._ It’s not that he doesn’t like to read. Hell, he even likes to write. It’s just that literature classes are pretentious at best, and boring at worst. He doesn’t want to have to read the same five books again, and pick them apart, and write a hundred essays about shit he doesn’t care about.

Well, at least it’s an afternoon class and not first thing in the morning.

He opens the door to the lecture hall just in time to hear the Professor say “George Eliot.”

Perfect. Exactly what Dave wanted to hear.

He quietly snags himself a seat in the back, hoping to go unnoticed. He opens his laptop without ever looking up, to do a little more research on the class. Find out what kind of Professor he has.

According to his reviews, he at least knows what he’s talking about. He’s professional. He’s strict. He’s passionate. He’s a little hot-headed. He’s got a fantastic ass.

Dave finally glances up, just to see for himself if it’s true. He finds himself staring for much longer than strictly necessary, finding the Professor to be… well, not exactly hard on the eyes.

He hasn’t heard a single thing the man has said since he sat down.

“... This novel was a success, leading to many more impactful publications on this society. Yet the most interesting thing about George Eliot, however, was not his writing, but the fact that his real name was Mary Evans, and she was one of the leading writers of the Victorian period using this pen name, which still persists in academia. However the use of the pen name allowed her freedom that was not afforded to other female writers at the time,” Karkat continues on. 

He pauses and points up to the back, to the student who sat down a minute after he began. No, he definitely didn’t forget that. This guy is lucky this isn’t a classroom setting. 

“You, in the back,” he says. He can’t really see who it is, someone has the lights dimmed for those farther up seats. 

“What was George Eliot’s first novel?” 

Dave hears the question being asked, but he doesn’t hear the actual words. By the time he realizes that the Professor is looking at him… holy shit, the professor is looking directly at him.

He looks down at his laptop, where he easily could google the answer to whatever the fuck he was just asked, if only he had _heard_ it.

“Uh…” he starts, but it’s probably not loud enough for anyone at the front of the room to hear.

He sits up straight, clears his throat, and starts again. “Sorry, Prof, I literally was not listening to a word you said. Ask me again.”

Karkat scoffs. 

“Yeah, obviously. Anyone else wanna answer the question for this _late_ asshole? I don’t enjoy repeating myself, but here you go again: What was George Eliot’s first novel?” 

“Adam Bede?” A student in the second row offers. 

“That’s right,” Karkat says. “You up there, let this be a cautionary tale to _be on time._ While you’re at it, why don’t you move down here. I know we have this whole room but let’s get intimate, alright?” Maybe cozy would have been a better word but it’s too late. 

Karkat notices two sorority girls shift and snicker, offering each other conspiratorial glances, but ignores it. 

Oh, the professor wants to get intimate? Is that how he’s been talking the whole damn time, and Dave has been missing it??

Sign him the fuck up, okay, shit.

He’s the first one to get up out of his chair and move toward the front of the room. There are several empty seats in the first row, so Dave claims one for himself and settles in nicely.

From this close up, he has a much better view of his professor. He moves his whole head to make it as obvious as possible as he gives the man a once over.

He leans his chin in his hand and speaks up, even though he hasn’t been asked to.

“Sorry for being an asshole, I won’t do it again. I’m ready to get intimate if you are.”

Karkat’s turning back to the projected slides, but then that one student speaks up again.

He feels his neck getting hot as some of the students, including those two sorority girls, snicker.

Turning around sharply, Karkat points at him. “You. Stay after class.”

He’s not about to launch into an apology about poor word choice but that was uncalled for. Unprofessional. 

Not like Karkat isn’t rather unprofessional himself pretty much all the time, but come on.

Someone ‘oooooh’s ominously, but Karkat looks back at his slides to continue on. He’s not going to let this student get under his skin and get away thinking he’s hot shit. He can let him stew until class is over, wondering what Karkat’s gonna tell him.

Which is not much. Karkat honestly doesn’t know what he’s going to say, but he at least has the rest of class to figure it out. 

“Our next author is Charles Dickens, unfortunately I’m required to mention him per the syllabus, but I’m tried as fuck from hearing about this dead white guy so lets move on.”

Oh boy, getting reprimanded like that was way more of a reaction than Dave thought he would get. Maybe an eye roll. Maybe a scoff. Maybe even nothing. But being invited to meet his professor after class?? Definitely interesting.

Definitely enough to keep Dave’s attention.

He listens through the whole rest of the lecture. He even takes a few notes-- which is something he never actually does in a lit class. Dave is the master of bullshitting his way through 20 page essays in two hours or less, so he really doesn’t actually give a fuck.

Usually.

But Dave can’t take his eyes off the man at the front of the room. He’s loud. Brash. Passionate. _Smart._ Outspoken. It’s extremely endearing, and doesn’t exactly make Dave want to look away.

When Vantas lets the class out for the day, Dave is a little blown away by how quickly it passed. Instead of dreading the minutes, he found himself thoroughly occupied the entire time. Weird.

As the last students filter out, Dave puts his things back in his backpack and hefts it over a shoulder. He takes the few short steps down to his professor’s level and across to his desk.

His palms are sweating, the closer he gets, but that’s totally unrelated to his growing proximity to his hot new professor.

“You wanted to see me, Sir?”

Karkat collects his things over the temporary desk— this isn’t his office, of course— shuffling some print outs and files together. It doesn’t look like there’s a class here after, maybe he could start using this room instead of going back to his stuffy office. 

“Ah, yes, thank you. Remind me of your name again?” 

Among other things, Karkat doesn’t take attendance. Attendance is based off the weekly short essay that is assigned in class. Karkat prefers to get to know his students through their thoughts and writing. 

“Dave Strider, Sir,” Dave says, as politely as possible, because he is fucking polite.

That train of thought derails pretty quickly, though, as he watches his professor clear off his desk. The opportunity is _there,_ and he just has to go for it, doesn’t he?

Without sparing it a second thought, Dave is climbing up onto the empty desk and laying across the top of it. He bends a knee, spreading his legs, and leans casually up on an elbow. He looks his professor dead in the eye as he lies there.

Consequences? He doesn’t know her.

“Are we finally going to get intimate?” he asks, because apparently hitting on his professors is a thing he does now. He’s not even sure where it comes from. Sure, the guy is hot, but Dave doesn’t _do_ guys. Least of all guys at least ten years his senior.

“Or is this about me being late?” he continues. “I’m so sorry about that, Sir, I’ll take the punishment like a good boy.”

Karkat’s eyes grow wide as he watches his student jump on the desk and splay out for him, heat crawling up his neck and face in a flash and leaving as soon as it’s there.

“Are you trying to get kicked out this class?” He asks rhetorically with a bewildered gaze, stepping back from the desk reflexively but hitting the chair and jumping in surprise from that. Suddenly his student is far too close to him, closer than the foot or so of space people traditionally use for professional talk, not to mention, well, there really was nothing professional about this at all, was there. He’s never had a student act like this before. It’s immature. Annoying. Karkat supposes he is conventionally attractive, just as a professional objective observation, and it’s possibly what fuels this young man’s arrogance.

Karkat doesn’t need to put up with this shit. He straights his back and holds himself up tall as he can and glowers down at the student.

“Do you think you’re being funny? Because from where I’m standing all you are is a lazy unprofessional sack of shit, Mr. Strider. I suggest you get off the desk, go home, do whatever it is you do there, and then show up _on time_ to class on Thursday. That’s all.”

Tardiness is and will always be his one great pet peeve.

“Sorry, sorry,” Dave starts. He pulls himself together and moves to sit at the edge of the desk. From here, he’s sitting much more appropriately, but also so much closer to his professor. He’s not sure why he’s taking this so far, but he doesn’t plan on stopping. The look on Vantas’ face is just _too good_ to stop.

He puts his own hand down on his thigh, fingers just slipping in between. Any other time, it would be a totally regular thing to do, but right now, he knows it won’t go unnoticed. His professor is too smart for that.

“Excuse me for asking, but… just curious.” A little rub of his thumb, a glance down at his professor’s mouth. “What exactly are you going to do about it? If I’m late again.”

Karkat kicks the chair back as he steps back this time, not caring if he knocks it over, just knowing he needs to put space between himself and this shameless student.

Distantly, he remembers a similar situation that may have happened once or twice prior to this, with a female student that visited him during office hours and sat on his desk right in front of him.

He had never absconded from his office so quickly before, not breathed a word of it to anyone for fear of losing his job.

That student’s advancements had been extremely forward. 

Karkat had mentally written it off as a ploy for a grade change, but that would be ridiculous. Karkat wasn’t desperate for carnal interaction with anyone, and even so, he wouldn’t inflict himself on someone like that. He had really doubted they actually found him attractive, just someone they needed to suffer sleeping with so they could get a leg up, so to speak. 

This is somehow… very reminiscent of that. But there’s no way this clearly heterosexual disease on society of a human is trying that on Karkat. This is the first day of class, there are no grades to be given yet, only a small case of tardiness and distracting behavior Karkat had been hoping to let go by now.

But he watches in slight terror at his student slips a hand between his legs, practically along his crotch. He shivers as he watches the student glance down at his mouth. 

What the hell is this?

No, no, Karkat’s just reading too much into this, a concept that terrifies him just as well because of the implications.

“I would--” he sputters, fighting for words. “I’d _ignore_ you, since you seem pretty damn well set on being an inconvenience. But it will affect your grade.”

Dave frowns at that. In a mindless, thoughtful habit, he sticks his tongue out to catch the gold barbell between his teeth. He rolls it a few times, thinking, then snaps his eyes back up.

“Your class doesn’t have an attendance grade, though. I read it on the syllabus.”

 _Score one, for being a good student._ Dave is such a good student, they might as well award him valedictorian right this very second, because it’s never going to get better than this.

“Your empty threats don’t scare me,” he says, hopping off the desk now. He’s pretty satisfied with himself, honestly. He’s gotten exactly what he wanted out of the situation. His professor’s face alone is enough to count as a victory, and if the man goes home and beats his meat over it, well. That’s none of Dave’s business.

“I’ll see you Thursday, Professor,” he says. As he turns to leave, he blows him a kiss and sticks his tongue out one more time for good measure, playfully this time.

With that, he turns and walks back up the steps.

_He has a tongue piercing,_ Karkat observes. Except it’s not so much an observation as much a pure kick of unwanted… something. The awareness of this new information sinks through his skin, into his bones, taking root somewhere deep in Karkat, prepared to come out at another time. 

His eyes zero in on it, the distracting shine of metal between his lips as thinks, and then Karkat can’t stop noticing it when he talks. Karkat barely hears what he’s saying, completely blinking from existence for half a second at this new information.

_I already read the syllabus._

Yeah, probably to see what he could get away with. With a shudder, Karkat wonders if he ever put anything about _sexual harassment_ in there. Would it be so presumptuous…?

But then he’s gone, leaving Karkat slightly shaken in his wake.

Instead of going to his office, Karkat just leaves campus. He needs to collect himself before class tomorrow. Especially because he’s getting a drink with one of his old mentors, and Karkat needs to figure out how to ask them about particularly…. _ornery_ students. 

He works through the evening, sending off some emails and making sure he has everything he needs for class tomorrow. 

Oh, and he can’t forget to add Title IX info to his syllabus. Maybe he should also add it to his presentation for the Thursday lesson of the Lit 261 class. 

Just to be safe.

Later that night, uncharacteristically so, it totally slips his mind. 

Dave leaves the lecture hall feeling… off.

He had his fun teasing that old guy into a fury, it was great, but it left him feeling… squirmy? Like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands and suddenly his shirt is too hot on his body. It’s suspiciously close to what arousal feels like, but that can’t possibly be it.

He brushes it off and chocks it up to being a healthy young man and therefore always horny for no reason.

He has two more classes after that. He sits through each of them, unfocused and unable to sit still. He can’t seem to shake off the heat making itself at home in his abdomen.

Whatever, though. It doesn’t mean anything. So he got a little worked up over his own antics, so what? It has nothing to do with the way his professor looked at him, the way his eyes locked onto the gold threaded through his tongue.

He smirks to himself at that. The piercings was a huge hit, as usual. Girls love that shit, and it looks like his professor is no different.

When he finally gets back to his dorm for the night, he drops his backpack and flops right down onto his bed. Might as well get his fap on and his head turned on straight before he tries to do any homework.

He pulls up his preferred porno site on his phone and starts to scroll through the recently featured page. It isn’t long before one of the titles catches him and makes him breathe out a laugh--

**_Hot Student Fucks Teacher for Better Grade FIRST TIME ANAL_ **

Sure, why the hell not?

He clicks it and lets the first few minutes of preamble play while he works on getting his jeans open. He grabs his nearly empty bottle of lube and slicks himself up. He works his fist over himself, not yet all the way hard, but getting there quickly.

The girl on his phone is busy playing with the mans tie, toying with it between her fingers while she tells him just how good of a girl she can be. How she’ll do anything for that A. She’s cute; small with dark hair and pornographicly large breasts.

Predictably, the man shoves her down to her knees and tells her to make better use of her mouth.

Dave strokes himself through it, hard now, but not really feeling it yet.

He closes his eyes, just listening to the sloppy sounds of head. He tries to picture a mouth in place of his hand, but it’s fuzzy. His mind drifts back to the way she was playing with his tie, pressed up close. He imagines him bending her over his desk, instead of down to the floor. He imagines him hiking up her skirt and feeling the wet between her legs, telling her she’s been bad. That she’s _bad_ for wanting this.

And then it’s Dave in her place, being shoved face first into his professor’s desk and talked down on, told he’s going to be punished.

His hips jerk up into his fist, a throb of arousal rolling through him.

He spirals quickly, thinking about those experienced hands on him, that pretty mouth, that _thick cock._

His orgasm rocks him in record time, leaving him shaken and confused in the aftermath.

What, exactly, the fuck was that??

He lays there for several long minutes, stunned and unable to come up with a reason to move. The sounds of the porno continue to play from the speaker on his phone.

Eventually, he convinces himself it was some weird slip of the mind that means exactly nothing about anything, and gets up to wash off the memory in an extra hot shower.

Wednesday evening, Karkat strolls into the campus bar, the one in the basement behind the student center. 

His old mentor greets him with a hug, and they proceed to talk for the next hour and a half, until Karkat notices the time. He also might actually be a little drunk. 

This is partially because he’s been attempting to work up the courage to ask his mentor about the “ornery student” issue the entire time and thus nervously drinking more that he usually would. 

Also because since Karkat got to campus this morning, he hasn’t been able to stop seeing him in his head. Karkat looks around corners, almost worried this student is going to be there. 

Is he actually worried? Why does it feel more anticipatory? 

It isn’t right, either way. 

Karkat finds himself leaving the bar with over a couple of drinks in him and the realization that he didn’t eat anything before. Why does he always let this friend buy more and more drinks? Karkat needs to be careful in the future. Just because he’s retired without consequences doesn’t mean Karkat is. 

He makes his way home, slipping into his apartment and thankful that he sobered up at least a little on the way. 

After eating, Karkat undresses in his room, thinking that he’s going to sleep later than usual and that’s not good, not good because tomorrow he has an important class, the lecture he has with… _Dave Strider._

Karkat goes still, staring off into the space of his room as he remembers, fucking remembers _again_ that flash of metal between that young man’s lips. 

He feels it, the movement in his boxer briefs, and he collapses on his bed, horror crossing his face.

The dredges of alcohol still in his veins, Karkat reaches down and palms at himself. 

Is he just… pent up? Yeah he supposed it’s been awhile, but… it might just be the alcohol.

Or just an odd passing fixation on this _piercing_ he needs to get out of his system. 

Cursing lowly, Karkat pulls himself out of his pants and strokes up the suddenly very erect length. Thanks to the drinks, his mind immediately fills itself with a fantasy, imagining that barbell, not on anyone in particular, just a sensation, and what it might feel like… 

Karkat hisses, turns his head into the pillow, wishing that it was a skilled, pierced tongue pressing its way along him instead of his hand. 

It would feel so good. He knows it would feel so good. 

He gets more into it, and it’s with that heavy setting arousal, something stronger than liquor, that the image in his mind has changed. 

In his mind he sees that student on his knees before him, eagerly licking along Karkat, flashing that metal at him and winking as he goes, as if he’s trying to destroy Karkat’s every last nerve. 

Karkat comes all over his hands with a moan as he imagines the young man swallowing, taking up every last drop. 

The post-orgasmic crash has never hit him so quickly before this. Karkat’s still panting from exertion when he sits up frantically in bed, looking down in horror at his hand as the reality of what he just did sets in. 

He just got off from thinking about his student. 

Karkat’s no stranger to this facet of his sexuality, he’s been long used to his dual attractions. It’s just that he chose to ignore them for the most part in favor of pursuing academia and teaching his passions. 

_Passion. Not a good word right now._

He feels sick to his stomach. He’s not prone to such debasing fantasies like that. 

And to have it with a _student._

Karkat throws himself in the shower, hoping it will wash away the intense shame filling him. 

Maybe it was just this once. Just for this one night, he was weak. It was a fluke. It won’t happen again. 

The next day, Karkat is standing in front of his class when he realizes what slides he forgot to add to this PowerPoint.


	2. Chapter 2

Thursday rolls around, and Dave is _bitter._ He’s mad that Vantas has made him into some kind of pining school girl, because he is definitely not that thing.

He's resolved to make his professor’s life as hard as possible today. How, you ask? With the only ammo he has that he knows works: his tongue piercing.

After standing outside the door long enough to make _sure_ hes one minute late, he strolls on in sits right back down in the front row of the hall, where he knows Vantas won’t be able to ignore him.

Immediately, he busies himself by sticking the end of a pen between his teeth, lips hanging open invitingly around it.

Karkat is off his lecture game this time. They’re still going through some of the authors and Karkat is forgetting where they left off on Tuesday.

All he can think about it how he forgot to put in the stupid Title IX info about sexual harassment in schools. 

Then that student, _Dave Strider,_ bursts in through the doors again, and Karkat forcibly ignores him while realizing he’s been staring silently at the projected slides for almost a whole minute.

He turns away from his students, just facing the screen now, and just starts talking. Eventually he catches his flow again, and about five minutes in he turns to chance a glance at his students.

There he is, front row, right and center, and Karkat feels like he’s being dropped into a black hole as he’s thrown off balance by him all over again, watching those lips wrapped around a pen, so similar to…

No. Fuck no. Not right now, what the hell?

Who the fuck is this guy? How dare he walk into Karkat’s class and be a distraction like this?

Karkat has to ignore him. He forces himself to look back at the slides, but then he can’t help it, his eyes turn to land back on the student in the front row.

This is going to be a problem, isn’t it.

The first time his professor looks at him, Dave watches all the color drain from his face. For a second, they stare at each other. One second too long. And when he looks away, Dave’s cheeks split into a smirk.

Score.

Of course that old pervert can’t take his eyes off him. Dave is a goddamn snack, no matter who you are.

The second time his professor looks at him, Dave is solidified in victory. He’s going to make the man _pay_ for what he did to Dave.

Even if he, uh… didn’t technically do anything. It’s still his fault, and Dave is going to _have_ his revenge.

In a bold display, he parts his lips around the pen and tilts his head down the side of it. He lets his pierced tongue fall from between his lips, and without breaking eye contact, he licks a very provocative trail up the entire length of the pen.

He lets the tip of it press into his bottom lip, folding it down and open, so he can catch the gold ball of his piercing between his teeth.

Oh god. Karkat can’t even look at his class, because the student he’s trying very hard to ignore is currently doing… something. 

It’s very obvious to Karkat and only Karkat because this student is the only one sitting in the front row. 

Like their little secret.

His eyes catch that flicker of gold again and Karkat almost wheezes, stopping mid sentence as his eyes zero in on it. 

It’s only the shifting of another student behind Dave Strider that turns Karkat’s attention back to the slides, but it’s too late. Like a virus infecting his body, Karkat’s mind is filled with the image of that student… going down on him. It’s so easy when he’s just sitting there putting work onto his pen like that, and suddenly Karkat is terrified of getting erect in front of his class at the age of _thirty three._

Karkat tried to casually turn and walk across the space to the podium, acting as if he’s leaning on it for comfort while continuing the lecture. 

This doesn’t make any sense. Karkat doesn’t have a sex drive like this. What it is about this stupidly handsome student with his awful piercing and probably terrible work ethic that is bothering Karkat so much? 

He’s doing it on purpose, too. Like he knows he’s getting to Karkat. And that’s what scares him the most, because even if Karkat isn’t doing anything, he could get in so much trouble for just looking as a student the wrong way. 

Karkat doesn’t get it. Why is this student doing this to him? 

He tries not to show how unsettled he is as the lecture continues, his eyes glancing to the clock almost every minute in hope that more time has passed than actually has. He’s never wanted class to be over so soon. 

They’ve still got half an hour left when Karkat can’t take it anymore. 

“Alright, let’s talk about your weekend essay. No, no groaning, this is a writing class too and you all knew that when you signed up!” He laughs but it’s a little forced. 

Holy shit, this is too fucking easy.

Watching his professor squirm in front of the entire lecture hall gives Dave a thrill he didn’t even know he could experience. Or that he wanted. But it has him shifting in his seat, to watch the nervous way his professor’s eyes keep flicking back toward the clock.

_He did that._

He trains his eyes on his professor's crotch, trying to catch and see if he’s got a stiffy before he hides it behind the podium.

He doesn’t see one-- but he knows the man definitely has one. Why else hide it?

Satisfied, Dave drops his pen down to his lap. At the mention of their weekly essays, it’s time to zone the fuck out. He already wrote it, so pretty much, this part of the class has nothing to do with him.

He pulls a notebook out of his backpack to proceed to not pay attention. After several doodles and half finished song lyrics, he stops and realizes, he has something better to do.

He flips a page and starts to write:

_what greater thing is there for two sick bros  
_ _than to feel that they are joined together horizontally  
_ _each other in all horniness, to minister to each other in wicked fellatio  
_ _to share with each other in all pleasure  
_ _to be one with each other in the sheets  
_ _screaming unending satisfaction_

He wonders if his professor will recognize the poem. Well, he _should,_ if he calls himself any kind of fucking professional. Eliot was the first thing that came out of the man’s mouth, when Dave met him.

He continues:

_so are you tryina get freaky or nah_  
_[ ] yes  
_ _[ ] yes, but lower down on the page_

He gives his amazing work a once over, before tearing it neatly out of his notebook and folding it into a square.

A glance at his cell phone tells him that class is almost over, so all there is left to do is wait.

When Karkat dismisses the lecture, Dave again waits until everyone is gone, and hops the few steps down to stage level. Before his professor can stop him, he says, “I wrote you something. To prove to you that I’m a good student.”

He flicks the note out between two fingers, and waits for Vantas to take it.

As soon as lecture is over Karkat throws himself into packing hurriedly up as if he has somewhere to be, which he doesn’t because he has office hours of which no students have requested so he’s actually got nothing. 

Students are busy filtering out of the side door but that student is still sitting there, taking his time. 

Karkat is about to be done packing up when the student comes right to him, just as the last student leaves the hall and Karkat is about to sling his bag over his shoulder.

He holds a piece of paper out to him, which Karkat peers at suspiciously, eyes darting between the students face and the paper in his outstretched hand. 

“You can prove yourself in other ways but I’ll humor you this time, Mr. Strider,” he grunts and snatches the paper out of the student’s hand. 

He looks at what he now realizes is just a piece of notebook paper with pen on it, and he realizes he’s lost whatever game this is as he flips open the paper, which he should have just thrown in the trash immediately, and reads the words.

It’s a poem, and as his eyes absorb the words reading down the page, he gets angrier and angrier, red flush crawling up his neck and face until he gets to the bottom and he’s just _done._ He crumples the piece of paper in his hand, not knowing what it is he needs to do but knowing that he needs to punish this student for this torture somehow. 

Karkat knows he’s making a mistake when he says it. He knows this student, Dave, has his ticket. He either knows something about Karkat’s personal life leading him to know that he’s single and interested in men, or even worse, he’d figured it out and is trying to take advantage of it to some sick end.

All Karkat can do is try to shoot this in the foot the only way he can imagine how and hope this little shit won’t call his bluff. 

“Is this a fucking joke to you? What the fuck is your problem? Get the fuck out of here before I report you! Better yet, drop my class! I don’t want to see you in this class ever again, take your immature, unwanted wiles elsewhere! Do you understand me?!” 

Karkat goes off the rails as he talks, like a snowball rolling down a hill and getting bigger and bigger. His rage and frustration explodes out of him at the student and his weird effect on Karkat, at the piercing instigating his curiosity, and at the fact that the poem was actually a well done parody Karkat couldn’t approve of because of the situation.

The problem with this is as he’s screaming for this young man to get away from him, he only gets closer until he’s in his face and poking his chest. 

His eyebrows fly up as he finishes his rant and he takes a big step away. 

Dave watches his professor’s facial journey as he reads the poem, and damn it all if it isn’t satisfying to watch all the color drain from his face. To see the _blush_ replace it.

Did Dave just make a grown ass man blush? Fucking score. Take that, you old freak.

But then, Dave can’t enjoy the victory, because his professor is _yelling_ at him, and coming closer, and backing him into the railing, and getting so close and standing over him, and holy shit he’s hot up close.

Dave feels a rush of _something_ at being towered over, at being the target of such a tantrum. Images flash through his mind, swirling together with reality. The porno girl, playing with her professor’s tie. Dave bent over _his_ professor’s desk. The girl on her knees. Dave being told he’s bad--

Wait, he’s _actually_ being told he’s bad. Not exactly in so many words, but…

And then Vantas is pale in the face again, backing up just a step, and Dave is quick to chase after him. His dick moves before his brain can catch up, and he’s got a fist wrapped up in his professor’s tie, leaning right back up into his personal space.

“Is that all you have to say?” he asks, eyes half lidded behind his shades. He starts backing himself up again, pulling Vantas with him like a man on a leash, until his ass hits the railing again and his professor bumps bodily into him. “Why don’t you _make me?”_

The student’s hand is wrapped around Karkat’s tie, hauling him close. Before he knows it he’s pressed up completely against this troublemaking young man and practically wheezing for it. 

Karkat’s eyes focus on his lips and the tongue between them that he hasn’t been able to get out of his head. He’s warm against Karkat, alive with an energy he hasn’t felt in a long time, maybe even ever, and for a second Karkat doesn’t want to push him away.

But he has to. His body is reacting to this whole situation, and if he doesn’t move soon this is going to become extremely messy. He can think about the fact that his student is coming on so heavily to him with almost no reasonable instigation on Karkat’s end later. 

His shocked, momentarily aroused face returns to a controlled scowl as he reaches up to the young man’s shoulders and shoves away from him. 

Great, now he could be liable for harassment _and_ assault with this student. 

“Get out of my class,” he growls, going back for his bag. “I won’t tell you again. Whatever you’re doing will get you nowhere, do you understand?” 

Can he even drop a student? He doesn’t think it’s possible. He’d have to go talk to someone to do it for him, and that’s just a whole other can of worms. 

Fuck. 

“Fuck it, I’m leaving,” he says and heads for the door, needing to put space between himself and this student as fast as possible. 

For a second, just for a second, Dave is _positive_ that his professor is going to kiss him. The tension rides so tight and heavy, he could probably taste it if he stuck his tongue out. He’s halfway to setting a party for two in his pants, when… he’s shoved off and he’s being yelled at again.

He’s too stunned to stop his professor from leaving, so then he’s left standing there, alone, with the weirdest semi he’s ever had in his life.

He wants to take this as a triumph. The memory of the _look_ in his professor’s eyes is enough to tell him that he definitely did _something._ But was it winning?

His sad little McChub doesn't exactly feel like a win. Fuck, that wasn’t supposed to happen again. Maybe it was the porn he watched the night before, messing with his head. Obviously he was going to think about it, given the situation.

Maybe he needs to go back to his dorm and salute the troops to a different video. Clear his head. Forget about all this… stuff.

It sure is a thing he’s been doing, that makes perfect sense, and is totally hilarious.

Karkat leaves the hall in a rush. He’s shaken. He doesn’t think he’s been so close to someone who was being so suggestive… in a while.

Had it really been that long? Was that why this was affecting him so much? This was misery.

He couldn’t be attracted to a student. Especially one looking for trouble like he was.

But then… what if he wasn’t? What if he actually interested in Karkat? 

That line of thinking is a slippery slope and Karkat thinks he might be slipping. It’s just… No one’s expressed that kind of interest in him in such a manner before. Karkat’s not prone to this kind of attention.

He wonders, deep down with heavy dread, that he might actually like it. 

It just… It doesn’t make sense otherwise. Karkat can’t even begin to comprehend what brought on this persisting behavior. What had first appeared to be an awful cry for attention now felt like, in Karkat’s mind, something else that actually was legitimate.

It’s a student.

It’s a student.

It’s a student, so it doesn’t matter what Karkat thinks and feels and wants, because it’s off limits, a no touch zone. It doesn’t matter how bad this young man may or may not want Karkat, nothing is going to happen.

When he’s winding down for the evening he realizes the paper is still shoved in his bag.

He reads the words over again, cursing to himself.

Was this really a blatant proposition? The execution was both perfect and terrible.

Karkat tosses the piece of paper on his desk, knowing that he may not be able to control this student, but he must be able to control himself. 

The way his body reacts later when he’s alone in bed and the young man crosses his mind once more does not bode well for that.


	3. Chapter 3

Dave has taken his professor’s threats as empty. He hasn’t gotten a notice that his class has been dropped, or anything like that. So when the next lecture rolls around, he decides he needs to change his angle. Warm up to the guy a little. Lull him into a false sense of security before going for the kill.

When he walks through the door, he’s nine minutes early. There are only two other students in the room so he’s happy to take his place in the front row.

The weekend, as always, passes by too quickly for Karkat. Monday class is easy.

Then it’s finally Tuesday.

Karkat didn’t forget to put the Title IX info in his slides this time, so he would make it _very_ clear to this student, had he shown up again, that he was making a poor decision making these passes at Karkat. 

He’s a few minutes early, as he always his for setting up his slides and papers, and he wheezes when he sees the student already sitting in the front row. 

He had not been expecting that.

The shock is forced off his face as soon as it appears and Karkat steels himself as he walks back over to the front desk to set his stuff down, making a point to ignore everyone currently in that room. At least there are other students, the one he was worried about wouldn’t do anything around them, right? 

Dave sits well in his chair, quiet and nonthreatening while he watches his professor set up his desk. Despite being ignored, so far so good, he thinks. At least he wasn’t dragged outside immediately and told not to come back. He’s not sure what he would do if he actually were forced to drop the class. Because he needs the credit, and not for any other reason.

He gives his professor a short wave, as politely as a young man should, simply to demand the attention. That’s all he does, though. For now. It’s enough. He knows the man won’t be able to stop thinking about him, about the moment they had, about the brilliant fucking essay he wrote.

The essay he goddamn near forgot to submit. He was so busy thinking of ways to crack his professor, the actual work slipped his mind. He made the deadline, barely, and he’s a little worried that he’s going to be viewed as a slacker for it. He’s _not._ He’s just got other priorities, as far as this class is concerned.

As other students filter in, Dave sets himself up to take notes. He keeps his laptop in his lap, his eyes focused on the man at the front of the room. Well behaved. Good. He’s got this. Maybe he’ll get a better response later, if he’s less of a brat now. Not that he’s a brat or anything. He just knows what he wants.

Karkat decided to do something different this time. He planned to release his essay comments during class time, so that students could approach him after. 

This was of course in hopes of avoiding another interaction with Dave Strider, though considering what comments Karkat had refrained from leaving pertaining to his paper it’s likely Dave had been intending a meeting of sorts to happen.

Or not.

Because it sure was an essay. It certainly was an essay with sentences that had words, and quite a few of them. These sentences had words like nouns and verbs that said things. These nouns and verbs sure did express some concepts and ideas. 

The issue was, in truth, that it was actually a decent essay. 

Dave’s ideas were succinct and to the point. He didn’t use too many words or not enough. His structure was varied and attention grabbing. His opinions on pen names of the past were not overly controversial like Karkat had been expecting. Had it been any other student, Karkat may have actually looked forward to reading others to come.

Karkat almost doesn’t believe Dave Strider wrote it. He runs it through plagiarism-checking program, only to find under a 1% potential match. Either Strider was well versed in moderate thesaurus manipulation or… he actually was an alright writer. 

Karkat can’t find anything excellent to comment on nor can he find anything awful, so he settles for a perfectly perfunctory ‘full points’.

He’ll see how Strider fares when they get to the longer papers later in the semester, numbering ten pages minimum. 

The issue of him also telling Mr. Strider to leave his class and the fact that he did not do so also remains. Maybe the student came to his senses and the weird storm from last week is gone. It won’t be Karkat’s business anymore, and he will be eager to forget about it.

Karkat forces himself to appear focused on his laptop before class starts, but he’s not doing anything of importance on it other than trying to look occupied.

Mr. Strider thankfully does not approach him again.

Class is started promptly with Karkat explaining the essay situation.

“I have just released your essay comments. Feel free to approach me after class if you have anything to discuss. I’ll be ending a little early to allow for that. I’ve also got office hours, use those if you feel like it. I really don’t care. Otherwise we’ll get started...”

He goes through a few books and authors and ends the class with explaining the first long assigned essay. Each student will have to pick a writer and discuss historical themes found in their writing and how a theme or topic is still reflected in more modern writings.

It is an extremely bland prompt to Karkat, but that’s what one expects with basic level literature classes.

All the while he’s teaching, however, Strider doesn’t act out at all. He pays attention and appears focused. Karkat is slightly unsettled by this change in behavior.

But it’s for the best, he tells himself, unwilling to let himself feel disappointed. 

“And that’s all. If you have any comments about the essay and your comments, I’ll be here.”

 _Please,_ he mentally begs the other students. _At least a few of you’ve got something to say, right?!_

The lecture is… kind of boring, with Dave remaining on his best behavior. He’s heard it all before, and honestly, he’s not sure why he has to take this class. He can’t be that mad, though, it’s been fun so far. He’s never had a professor that has kept him quite this entertained.

When he’s told the essays were handed back, he’s quick to check his email. When he sees the mark though… he frowns.

Just… full points?

Like yeah, great, that’s cool and all, but not a single comment? Did the fucker even read it, or just slap a _full points_ on it and call it a night?

As a screen writer, a lyricist, a director, a blogger, and by all means, someone who should be considered a _literature student,_ feedback is important to him. Actual opinions from his actual professors are _important to him._

And as a man specifically vying for the attention of this particular professor… this is not ideal. He feels like he’s been thoroughly ignored, and it does not sit well in his gut.

By the time lecture is released, he’s still not over it. He shoots Vantas a disappointed look, but as other students filter up to the front of the room, he just packs his things and leaves.

He sits on it for the rest of the day. It’s probably unreasonable, for him to care this much about a single paper (a paper he got full points on, much less) but he just can’t stop fixating on it.

Why doesn’t he want Dave?

_…why doesn’t he want Dave?_

When Vantas’ office hours finally roll around, Dave is out the door before he can even think twice about it. He power walks across campus with his one track mind, and soon enough he’s standing in front of his professor’s door, red faced and nearly out of breath.

Okay, maybe he’s being dramatic.

He takes a deep breath to calm himself, and then opens the door. “Hey, don’t freak out,” he cautions, as he shuts the door behind himself. “I just came to talk to you about my paper. Do you have a minute?”

A few students come and talk to Karkat, and a few just leave. 

Among the ones that leave is Dave. 

Karkat is in the middle of talking to a student when he notices Dave get up and start walking towards the door. He stutters mid sentence, sending a confused, longing glance in his direction before shaking it off and getting back to what he was telling the student. 

This was what he wanted, right? For Dave Strider to leave him alone? 

He finishes up with that and head to his office for office hours, not knowing if anyone will come, but that’s fine. He’s got plenty of other stuff to do. 

It’s difficult to focus. His mind keeps wandering, thinking about Dave’s head as he walked away from him. 

_This is ridiculous._

He doesn’t have feelings for his student, or any attraction, he’s just… momentarily distracted by him. A passing phase. 

He’s in the middle of sporadically writing edits on a paper for another class when his silence is broken by the source of his distraction. Karkat looks up at the door, startled. 

His office is not that big to begin with, but with Dave Strider in there with him, it shrinks several feet in on them. 

“O-oh. It’s you,” bursts out of him in surprise. Mr. Strider wants to come talk to him about his paper? That’s fine. That’s alright. Even if Karkat told him to drop his class he’s willing to let them start over. It’s the professional thing to do, right? 

“I… Er. Yes, I have a moment. Take a seat.” He gestures to the chair on the side of his desk. He himself puts the paper down and directs his full attention at the… 

Incredibly handsome student in the room with him. 

This can’t be happening. 

Karkat holds his face as stoic as he can, willing himself not to give away his internal frustration. 

“Right, um…” Dave takes a step forward, and promptly stops. He’s thrown off by the way his professor talks to him. Like a regular student and a regular mentor. It’s so _regular,_ that Dave isn’t sure he’s in the right room.

He shakes it off and takes the seat offered to him. His hands fidget in his lap, though, and he’s not sure where the fuck all this nervous energy is coming from. He feels like he’s about to ask a girl to prom and she might say no, instead of here to ask his professor for _notes._

Another second of hesitation, and then he’s launching right into it, words just spilling from his mouth before he can consider them.

“Did you even read my paper?” he asks, accusative and defensive right from the get go. “Because you didn’t leave me any notes, and I just-- I thought you would? Usually you would, right? It makes me think you didn’t read it at all, and I put a lot of work into it, and I’m _trying_ to get you to just fucking notice me, right? Like what the fuck is happening? You keep pushing me away, and I’m not used to this kind of rejection.”

He’s spiraling quickly away from the paper itself, but the paper was the _last straw._

“And like, I’m hot, aren’t I? Right? I know I am, I know _you think I am._ Christ, if your thirst for this piercing,” he stops for just a second to stick his tongue out and point with a finger, “were any more obvious, you’d fucking cream your pants if you knew about the other ones. Fuck, _fuck,_ I’m off track. Shit, okay. What I’m trying to say is, why are you brushing me off? My essay was _good_ wasn’t it? And you have nothing to say?”

By the time he’s finished word vomiting, he’s sitting on the edge of his seat, giving his professor the most earnest, confused look. His hands are gripped tightly into the knees of his own jeans, and he’s holding his breath at this point, because what the fuck was all that he just said?

Jesus, he needs to get a grip. He doesn’t even _like_ the man, right? So why the fuck does he care so much? Fuck him and fuck his opinions, Dave doesn’t need them.

Karkat’s shock only grows as his student speaks, and boy is he glad that door is closed. His eyes widen, eyebrows flying up to his hairline. He opens and closes his mouth several times during Strider’s rant, but no words come out. Nothing makes sense. Karkat considers himself an expert on English language, but then nothing this student just said is comprehensible to him.

The meaning starts to set in, towards the end, and replaces Karkat’s confusion with horror and mixed arousal.

Strider… wants him? Wants his attention? Why does thinking that make Karkat feel so good? Oh god, he knows Karkat likes the piercing. He’s that obvious. Fuck, Karkat’s never been good at hiding anything, has he?

He stares at Strider as he stops talking and takes in his tightly wound body language, the way he’s almost panting with exertion just from speaking.

Karkat knows what he needs to do, but doesn’t know if he can. He’s weak. He also knows the words he’s about to say might get him fired.

Karkat puts his head in his hands over his desk and groans.

“Yes, I read it! Your paper was fine! It was good, even! But I’m your goddamn professor, Mr. Dave Strider. How I feel--” _How I feel about you._ “--Is irrelevant. Christ, what do you even want from me? I don’t understand what I did to deserve you torturing me like this. I can’t stand it. I don’t know what it is about you!”

His fingers itch to grab Dave’s face and kiss him. Karkat easily could, motivated by the high of knowing Strider… wants him? He thinks? 

Karkat leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, looking at anything, anywhere but Dave.

“Yes, you _are_ attractive. But this is…” Karkat clears his throat and sits up. “This isn’t the place for that. Or the time.” He finds his words as he goes on, even if it feels like stabbing himself in the throat. Strider just confessed to feeling… something, with Karkat, right? It feels like a bomb of knowledge was just dropped on Karkat. All of this is going to feel like a blur later. But Karkat has to say no, it doesn’t matter what he feels. “Your self regard is not of my concern. I’m brushing you off because I… have to.” He shakes his head. “Your essay was good. I will be sure to leave other comments in the future, now that I’ve been made aware they are of importance to you.”

He fights with his hands not to reach out and take Dave’s face and kiss him like he desperately wants to.

Finally he looks directly at Dave, setting his face but knowing his eyes are giving him away, filled with longing for Dave. He can feel it.

“Is that… Is that all?” 

Dave can hear his professor’s resolve cracking with each word that leaves his mouth. He picks up on key points: that he thought his essay was good, that he has to turn Dave away, that he definitely thinks Dave is a snack. He can see the way Karkat’s hands twitch, like he’s trying not to use them.

_What do you want to use them for, hm, professor?_

The urge to find out is overwhelming, and Dave has never been one to possess an ounce of impulse control. So he gets up, and he confidently rounds to the other side of the desk. He sits against it, hands clasped around the edge on either side of himself, leaving his body language open and relaxed and willing.

He bears down on Karkat with a challenging look. It’s definitely not about his paper anymore.

“If you want me, then, who’s stopping you?” he asks. Consent seems to be key, here, after what Karkat said in class earlier. Even if Dave is all mixed up on the inside about it. How can he want something so badly, and not know why? Is it just for validation? A conquest? Whatever it is, he’s here, and there’s no going back.

“Do you think I’m going to nark or something?” he presses again, just in case his professor still had his doubts. “Because I won’t, I just…”

He bites his own lip and waits, even if every muscle in his body is telling him to crawl into the man’s lap.

Dave is so close to him again. It makes Karkat’s heart race as he stares up at him, searching the face that he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about for a whole week, this reckless, apparently irresistibly sexy young man sitting right before him. The person who dialed his arousal up to a hundred and shook up parts of Karkat that had long since been still. It felt like he was losing control. 

He still didn’t understand why him. Why Karkat of all people. He wasn’t special, wasn’t worth this attention. 

But Karkat’s too gone to remember that anyways. As he trails off, Karkat can’t hold it in anymore. As he looks up at Dave for those few seconds his resolve snaps in two.

For some reason, this student wants him, and damn if Karkat doesn’t want him too. 

His hands launch up to grab Dave’s face and Karkat gets to his feet as he smashes his mouth against Dave’s in what is definitely the dumbest decision he has ever made in his life.

He’s kissing a student. 

He’s kissing a student, closing his eyes as he tastes his mouth with a wet, firm, undeniably delicious kiss. His hands firmly hold Dave’s face to his for that second as he kisses him with all the desperation and confusion he’s felt over the last week. His nerves feel like they are on fire.

This is what Dave Strider and only Dave Strider can do to him, apparently.

Wow, he’s never kissed someone like this, moving his mouth over another person’s as hungrily before. His lips press over Dave’s top lip, then his lower, before slotting their faces together and licking his tongue along Dave’s lower lip as he asks for entry in, where that tongue and piercing he wants to feel so badly wait.

It’s like he’s completely blanked out of reality, all he can focus on is this kiss he’s been craving.

Dave is… shocked. After so many adamant refusals and rejections, he almost can’t believe what’s happening.

Karkat is _bigger_ than him, sturdier, and the way he’s holding Dave’s head in his hands makes him wonder why the fuck he’s not closer. What’s a kiss like this even worth without a little hip on hip action?

His hands move before he can tell them to, unclenching from around the edge of the desk and pushing up under Karkat’s blazer. He smoothes both palms around Karkat’s sides and up his back, pulling him closer, chest to chest. His legs naturally part to let Karkat step between (and wow, he’ll have to examine _that_ particular reaction later on) and he can’t help the surprised little noise he makes as he opens up to let Karkat’s tongue in.

He’s a little shaken by how _well_ he fits here, just like this, under Karkat’s body, being bent back over the desk with the force of their kiss. And damn it all, in Dave’s twenty one years of life, he’s never been this deeply satisfied by something so simple. So easy. So arguably innocent. He _likes_ it, which he was _not_ expecting, and he’s left to wonder dumbly…

What now?

Now that he’s gotten what he wants out of the older man, what’s supposed to happen? 

He doesn’t have time to think about that as he clings to Karkat, hands pulling into fists under his jacket. He pushes back with his own tongue, letting Karkat have the full experience of that piercing he knows he’s been fantasizing about. He grinds with his hips, and chokes on his own moan as he realizes that he’s fucking hard already.

How embarrassing, Strider, get your shit together. You can only blame so much of this on being young and eager.

Maybe his professor won’t notice, though, so he pretends not to notice either as he moves his lips with renewed fervor. 

Karkat half knew Dave would kiss him back, and half of him is utterly shocked that he does. 

When he kisses back… Karkat loses it. The way that he sticks his tongue in Dave’s mouth to feel the piercing is beyond obscene. He’s holding Dave’s face to his own as he explores him through the kiss. As he feels the metallic ball at the end he can’t help it anymore, he _moans_ into Dave’s mouth. 

Dave, oh god, his _student,_ is feeling him up under his jacket, opening his legs up for him and shoving his hips towards Karkat’s to grind up on him.

He’s… hard. He’s hard for Karkat.

It doesn’t take long for Karkat to join him with that situation, coupled between the kiss and the piercing and the way Dave is touching him, pulling them closer together until there’s no more space to be had between.

Dave wants him. _Dave wants him._

Karkat sure isn’t picking up any red light from him, anyways. He gets lost in kissing Dave, the sweet taste of him Karkat already knows he’ll be addicted to. He doesn’t even remember that his door isn’t locked.

Karkat doesn’t understand what’s happening to him. He’s always kept himself controlled, subdued for so long, and all it took was this asshole flashing his tongue at him to make him lose his carefully kept mind. Well, maybe it wasn’t just that. But Karkat isn’t thinking about the fact that Dave is clearly intelligent and funny outside of the fact that he finds him mind-bendingly hot and he’s never wanted to fuck someone so badly in his life.

 _What is it about him?!_ What about him enables Karkat to literally want to _break the law to sleep with him?_

Karkat grinds back on Dave, wanting Dave to feel how turned on he’s making him. 

He breaks the kiss for a moment, but keeps holding Dave’s head close to his own, just breathing in his scent. 

“I want you so fucking badly,” he murmurs against Dave’s lips before he dives in for another ravenous kiss. _I think I’m losing my mind because of you,_ he thinks. 

Karkat's words send a searing jolt of arousal straight down to Dave's aching cock. It _throbs_ at the attention, and Dave is left clambering desperately for more.

He can feel that his professor is hard now, too, and it _does something_ to him that he can't explain. It makes him feel wanted and sexy and makes him want Karkat to bend him over the fucking desk already and take him.

Instead, he lets Karkat's weight support him against the desk, and picks one leg up at a time to wrap around the other's hips. He grinds again, and _fuck_ the new angle rubs him just fucking right.

His moans come from deep in his chest, and Karkat _keeps kissing him,_ like he's never been kissed before. It's passionate, it's practiced and intentional, and it makes Dave all but light headed and weak in the knees. He arches into the brutal press of it, and then...

Then...

Little red flags start going up all at once.

Holy shit, this is intense. How did some light teasing blow up into something so out of proportion? Dave has never been here before, with another man's tongue shoved down his throat, with another man's hard dick grinding up into his ass, being told how badly he's wanted, _being about three seconds away from being fucked for the first time._

His legs squeeze tighter around his professor without his permission, and he's pulling away from the kiss with a reluctant groan. His blunt fingernails dig into the back of Karkat's shirt, still stuffed up under his jacket. And as he looks up into the clouded, honest, desperate eyes of his professor... the full gravity of the situation hits him like a truck.

"I have homework," he blurts out, before he can come up with _literally_ anything else to say. He hasn't let go yet, and he's glad that his skewed glasses still cover up the mild panic in his eyes.

He's still reeling, still panting, still _painfully fucking hard_ for the man he's currently wrapped around, but he continues in a soft, reluctant voice. "So maybe I should, like... go..."

Karkat melts into him, his hands now sliding down Dave’s sides, grabbing for him. One hand goes to the back of his neck, the other fisting in Dave’s shirt. With only the slightest bit of help Dave sits on the desk and fucking wraps his legs around Karkat. It’s so fucked up, it’s so hot and Karkat can’t stand it. He grinds his hips into Dave and absorbs the sweet noise it pulls out of him. 

He can’t believe he’s doing this, kissing Dave like this, encouraging the downward spiral they’re embarking on. It’s sick. Karkat’s chasing it like one chases a high. He needs it, addictively so. 

Karkat wants to feel that piercing along him, licking him up and down, and it’s so vulgar and lewd to think of a student, but Karkat doesn’t want to stop. He wants to lose himself in Dave. He hasn’t been touched like this in so long. He hasn’t felt explosive physical chemistry with anyone for so long. Ever, maybe.

Dave is squeezing towards him, bringing them closer together, but not close enough. 

Just as Karkat is about to start pulling for his clothes to fix that, Dave is separating out of the kiss. Karkat lets him go, eyes fluttering open. What does he look like right now? Breathless and flushed from Dave’s kisses? Are his eyes dark with arousal, focused solely on Dave? 

Dave clutches to him, but then…

_Maybe I should go._

Karkat wishes he could search his eyes, but he still has those glasses on. But he can see well enough something undecided and unhappy in Dave’s expression, and reality shocks him like a lightning bolt.

He can’t be seducing, be seduced by, a student over ten years his junior.

This is very, very wrong, and something is even more wrong with Karkat. 

Karkat’s jaw drops open as fear overtakes his face. He shoves away from Dave, pushing him on to the desk and away from him as he stumbles backwards. 

His maddening desire for Dave must be painfully obvious through his pants.

He gazes at Dave with wild eyes that dart all over, unsure of what they are looking for. 

“I--I--I shouldn’t have done that, fuck, I’m sorry, I-- I don’t know what came over me,” Karkat wheezes, shaking his head and putting space between himself and Dave until his back is pushed up against his bookcase and he can’t go any further.

“You should… You should go. I’m sorry. It-- It won’t happen again,” he curls in on himself, fisting his hands and turning away from Dave.

Watching his professor scramble away from him very nearly breaks his heart. He's left open and vulnerable and so very _cold_ where he was shoved into the desk. A slurry of mixed emotions overwhelms him, and he's caught between reaching back out for comfort and the gay fucking panic that's starting to make him tremble.

For a moment, he can't move. He can't say anything. He should be apologizing too, for blue balling the guy like that, but he was--

_He was scared._

He's full on panicking as he forces himself to sit back up. He tries to tell himself it's fine, to calm the fuck down. They stopped, didn't they? That was all he wanted, was a second to catch his breath, and he's _alone_ now, so why is it _worse?_

"You didn't-" he starts to say, torn again between nausea and reaching out. "You didn't do anything wrong, okay? I just... needed a break."

His voice sounds foreign in his own ears. He shouldn't be the one comforting his professor right now, he needs to be told that _he's okay._ That he's not wrong for the way he's feeling, so he can stop fucking panicking.

He _wanted that._ He wanted that more than anything he's ever wanted, probably ever, and even now, with his head spinning, his body still throbs to be touched by the older man.

He fixes his glasses pulls himself together, at least on the outside. He can fake it, he's good at that. He finally stands off the desk, on legs that are _not trembling,_ and hugs himself with one arm.

He has to say something.

"I'm sorry," he says again, and god, he prays he sounds normal. He's not this weak, he can't be this weak, for being so shaken up about arguably the hottest makeout session of his life. "Thank you for... stopping. You're a good dude, you know, consent is super sexy."

He huffs out half a laugh, and _fuck,_ did that make it sounds like he didn't want any of it? He's still got whiplash from how unironically he _needed_ this man to split him open, and he hopes the guy isn't taking it the wrong way.

"Anyway..." he trails off. He turns and starts to round the desk, because he can't _look_ at what he did to Karkat for another second. "I'll see you Tuesday, okay?"

And his ass is out of there before another painful second can pass.

Karkat chances a glance at Dave as he speaks, and he’s struck by just how _scared_ he looks. He’s telling Karkat he didn’t do anything wrong, but he did. Karkat is the one that selfishly gave in to his hunger.

Then Dave is thanking him for stopping.

Oh, fuck. He didn’t want it. Karkat did go too far. Fuck. Ice fills Karkat’s veins, it feels like he can’t breathe. 

What has he _done?_

Dave is gone before Karkat can say anything else, not even beg for forgiveness. He wants to reach out for him but he knows he shouldn’t, can’t.

Karkat can’t have Dave, no matter how badly he wants him, for whatever inexplicable reason he does.

In the silence Dave leaves behind, Karkat is left catching his breath. Eventually he stumbles back forward to his desk and collapses in his chair, putting his face in his hands and willing his erection to abate. 

Either way, he can’t stay here today. He needs to go home and figure out what sickness he’s come down with and purge it from his body so that he doesn’t let himself get lost in the riptide pull of Dave Strider again. 

Dave doesn’t want Karkat, anyways.

When the panic subsides (who the fuck knew gay panic was a real thing? Dave thought it was just, some ironic internet thing) and he finds himself in bed, still overwhelmingly hard, he’s never pulled himself off so fast in his life.

He’s got _plenty_ of cannon fodder, at this point. Thinking about those big hands on his face. His sides. The back of his neck, holding him, cradling him. The fierce, incessant kisses. The way he kept playing with his fucking piercing, like he could never get enough. The heavy, hot weight of his cock through his slacks as he thrust up into his ass.

His hands wander where they never have, lower and back, and it’s his fingertips brushing over his shockingly sensitive hole that finally do it for him.

He feels guilty now, getting off to the memory, especially like this, after he made the poor guy fucking stop. What was he thinking? That he was really going to be able to go through with it?

He wasn’t thinking, and that’s the whole thing.

He probably _hurt_ the guy, running off like that, but… he just couldn’t do it. He wasn’t ready.

He’s still not ready.

He doesn’t know where this leaves him. What it makes him. Is he gay now? Bisexual, maybe? He doesn’t want to think about it because it’s _fucking hard._ It’s hard, and it’s confusing, and Dave doesn’t want to deal with it, but…

He can’t stop thinking about his professor’s mouth on his. About their bodies pressed together. About the fire in his gut that still won’t go away.

He wanted it.

He really fucking wanted it.

And he made the guy _stop._

He’s never felt like more of a jackass. Especially when he knows the guy is sitting at home right now, probably calling the goddamn police on himself over touching a student. Even if that’s the part that worries Dave the _least._

Over the weekend, he loses count of how many more times he gets off to the thought of his professor touching him. He even… tries playing with his ass again. It’s humiliating and awkward and he doesn’t know what he’s doing and he can’t reach right, but.

He doesn’t _hate_ it.

Karkat hasn’t even been home that long but before he knows it he has every single poem or passage he can find on passion and lust in all his books at home laid out all over. He reads through them frantically as if the sages of days past might offer him a sliver of wisdom so that he might find an alternative way to sate the deviant thirst he has for Dave. 

Karkat understands what all those writers over the years meant. He’d lost himself in passion with Dave, become ill with lust, tempted by the sweetness of his body. Now that he had tasted it, he knew it was far more delicious than his mere precious words could describe. 

Karkat’s face is sweaty, he runs his hands through his hair frantically as he pores through everything he can find. 

None of it helps. They’re all detailings of how they craved, like Tantalus and the water, or how they gave in and bit into that which was forbidden, like Eve and the apple. All Karkat has to blame is some type of black magic, illegal and compelling, a spell he had been put under. 

All his pages have to offer him is the unavoidable truth that he has ill-fatedly fallen in lust, the likes of which he has never known before, but that many have suffered through before him. 

He can endure this, if they did. It may drive him mad. But he will fight it. He won’t let himself fall again. 

However, one subject remains that Karkat cannot help but obsess over. Outside the written accounts of trysts and lovers lost in each other’s arms there is the consistent theme of two souls inexplicably drawn to one another, wanting and needing no matter the expense. 

Karkat always thought that would be an experience he gained through reading, not through actually living it. 

He’s at least familiar with his leanings for both sexes by now. That was a shock his younger self dealt with, and pushed away so he could focus on his goals. Romance and carnal pursuits were secondary objectives. 

So what didn’t shock Karkat was being attracted to the young man. 

What did disturb him was the fact that he yearned for Dave in the way addicts crave their drug. 

He was problematically fixated on a person he was forbidden from being involved with. 

And of course, so painfully human he is, Karkat wants what he cannot have.

That’s what literature is to Karkat, the human experience, and wow he’s really experiencing now just how fallible and human he is. There’s an element of forgiveness it allows Karkat to grant himself, but the issue still remains. 

He wants Dave Strider, and he doesn’t know when, or worse, _if_ he will ever stop wanting him.


	4. Chapter 4

Karkat considers canceling class that Thursday. He’s not received any notice that he’s in trouble. Nothing in the department is amiss Wednesday when he checked in.

If Dave were to report him, he hadn’t done it yet.

So all Karkat can do is show up and hope that he doesn’t do that, and that from here on out they both do their best to keep their relationship professional. 

Karkat gets to the class and immediately sets about taking out piles of papers and his laptop as he always does. A student comes up and asks him about an essay topic they had been considering, and noting the time Karkat asks them to come back after class or set up an office hours appointment. So far it’s business as usual. 

“Good afternoon,” he greets the class as he finally turns to them on the starting minute. 

Dave sits in the front row again, as seems to be his favorite spot now. He’s unavoidably in Karkat’s line of sight like this. 

It’s maddening. The room is the same temperature it always it, but Karkat is too warm in his proximity again. He keeps catching his eyes darting over to Dave, to his covered expression, and has to force them away, to look at other people.

For the later half of class Karkat has planned discussion groups, partially so that he doesn’t have to lecture the entire time. Usually those happen later in the semester, but Karkat needs the reprieve now, at least for today. 

When Tuesday rolls around, Dave is so nervous that he thinks he’s going to puke. He’s been doing his best to be _positive_ about what he wants, and… he’s pretty sure he still wants it. He should try, at least, right? That is, if his professor will even look at him.

He takes his usual seat in the front row, to demonstrate that things are normal. Nothing has changed. He’s totally fine, and Karkat didn’t hurt him, and he’s not still mildly panicking about what he’s decided that he wants. He even finished his weekly essay early, and handed it in without a hitch.

Perfectly normal.

It gives Dave hope, the way that his professor keeps looking at him during the lecture. Okay, maybe things aren’t so fucked up between them that he won’t, at least, talk to him after class. 

There’s a chance, at least, if the look in Karkat’s eyes is anything to go by.

He’s distracted through the first part of his group discussion. He keeps glancing back at his professor, at the clock, but then someone says something that catches his interest, and he just _has_ to set that fucking record straight.

He launches into a whole debate about it, giving his extremely valid and correct opinions, and countering other’s thoughts with his own. He gets so caught up in it, he doesn’t even notice the time go by.

But then they’re being dismissed, and his group is quick to leave.

He wasn’t… done, though.

Oh well.

As students filter out of the hall, he slowly gathers his things. He’s still thinking so hard about the discussion, he damn near forgets what he was planning to do after class. His eyes snap up to see his professor hurriedly gathering his things, like he always does, and shit, Dave needs to get up there before it’s too late.

He shoves his laptop back in his bag without a second thought and hops up to make his way down the steps. He stops beside the desk, instead of behind it. Close enough, but not too close. He needs to be able to properly gauge exactly how pissed the older man is at him, before he gets in over his head.

“Hey,” he says, easily, casually, like they didn’t have their tongues shoved down each other’s throats the last time they saw each other. “Do you have regular hours today?”

He asks the question innocently enough, but he knows that the implication is there. Knows Karkat has been thinking about it as much as he has.

Karkat hovers as people engage in the group discussions, close enough to make sure people are on task. Usually he would engage in the discussion too, but he knows he would just end up forcibly ignoring the group Dave is in to avoid him. Instead, he listens.

And of course, what he hears is Dave.

What he hears surprises him. Or maybe it doesn’t.

Dave is obviously intelligent, he’s wordy when he speaks but his ideas and thoughts are solid when he finally gets there. Karkat stands in front looking over the class but his ears are focused on Dave’s group. 

He’s engaging enough Karkat almost wants to interject to speak with him. Yes, Karkat has had a few students and fellow professors over the years that he’s casually enjoyed meals and coffee with while they discussed topics such as these. They were like minds he immediately took a shining to.

However, Karkat had not kissed nor ever wanted to kiss those individuals. 

He wishes he didn’t find Dave’s thoughts so charming, because now he’s itching to get in there and see more for himself.

Fuck, why is everything working against him with this? 

Karkat could easily see himself sitting with a drink across from Dave while he talked animatedly about a passage that resonated with him. Hell, it almost feels like a fantasy with how badly he wants it.

He notifies the class that it’s over but that they may continue the discussion groups if they please, but everyone ends up packing up anyways.

Except Dave actually seems like he would have liked to continue talking.

The same student from before comes back to talk to Karkat, and instead of scheduling a meeting they quickly tell Karkat what they were thinking of writing on. He nods as he listens and gives his verbal approval. 

“Thank you, Prof. Vantas!” they say and head out.

Karkat turns around and jumps as he notices Dave, so close all over again. Heat runs down his neck in a flash. 

Almost everyone has left the room now, but Karkat turns to shuffling through papers and putting his bag together, not letting himself make eye contact with Dave. He drops his voice low so that no one else can hear them, even if everyone is pretty much gone by now. 

“Yes. But I don’t… I don’t think that’s a good idea, Dave,” he murmurs, just loud enough for Dave to hear. 

“...Why?” Dave asks, slowly. “I thought you were feeling it.”

He furrows his brows, glances behind himself to make sure all the other students are gone, then settles with his arms crossed and a hip leaned against the desk.

“Are you mad at me? For asking you to stop?” A moment of apprehension flashes across his face, of disappointment, of the fear of rejection _again._

“Look, I-- I can explain, okay? I’ve never…” He pauses to bite his lip. Maybe admitting inexperience to someone older than him isn’t the sexiest thing he could be doing right now. What if Karkat thinks he’s childish? Or too much work? “You’re just… not… the kind of person I usually get my mack on with, okay? I wasn’t ready--”

Fuck, he’s slipping up.

He already said it though, so he says it again, with resolve this time. “...I wasn’t ready. Maybe I freaked out a little bit, but I’m fine now.”

He fights with looking away, looking at his professor, his eyes, the desk. Oh god, he’s going to keep talking, isn’t he?

“I want… to try again. I liked it, so fucking much that it made me sick. I went back to my dorm and yanked my crank so many damn times thinking about it, it was kind of outrageous. I mean-- Fuck.”

His face is hot at this point, after saying too many things he didn’t even mean to say. His shoulders hunch in, defensive, and he shoots Karkat an accusatory look. “Are you going to just stand there and let me keep making an ass of myself?”

Karkat swallows thickly and his skin turns very hot as Dave starts to talk, and… doesn’t really stop. All Karkat can do is stare at him with wide eyes and he confesses to the same problem he’s had. 

_I liked it, so fucking much that it made me sick._

Oh, Karkat knows that feeling _very well._

Finally, Dave is looking at Karkat, begging for a response, and Karkat almost doesn’t know what to say. He’s left flushing and slightly amused by Dave’s particular choice of words, which are still extremely relatable. 

Karkat still doesn’t exactly get it, either. All the people this student has access to in the world and beyond, and he’s expressing this interest in Karkat of all people. Couldn’t he do better?

But then again, Karkat thinks back to his writing and what Dave’s spoken of, the passionate soul that feels similar to his own, and he wonders if Dave recognizes it too.

Thinking that just makes it worse. 

Something else about what Dave said stands out that Karkat needs clarified. What makes Karkat unlike the kind of person Dave would usually be interested in? Is it because he’s a professor? 

“Don’t be ridiculous, why would I be upset with you for that?” Karkat scoffs. “No, you should have stopped me. You were the one who did the right thing. And yes, I suppose you don’t make a habit of engaging in… amorous interludes with your superiors. And that’s the problem. Dave, I… What we did. What happened. That was-- That was wrong. It doesn’t matter how much I want you-- it. I’m… I’m your professor.” 

Each word coming out of his mouth becomes more and more painful as it goes on, until he’s forcing them out. He doesn’t want to stop with Dave. Even now, he keeps his hands held tightly to his sides, worried that any movement towards Dave will break him all over again.

How can he even begin to explain to Dave this pull he has towards him?

Karkat forces himself to look away. 

“Dave… you must understand. Right now, it’s so hard for me to keep my hands off you. I want you so terribly and I don’t know why. But… I can’t. I’m not supposed to. Please… don’t make this harder for me than it has to be.” 

  
  
Hearing his own first name so many times on his professor’s tongue hits Dave almost as hard as the confession. It leaves him warm and flushed and digging his fingers into his own arms for purchase.

Okay, so he wasn’t wrong. Crisis averted. Karkat wants him too. Great. So what the fuck is the problem.

“You being my professor is the furthest thing from my mind, dude. You might be a little older than me, but… shit. I always thought older women were sexy. So I guess, it would stand to reason, that means older men, too, right? Fuck.”

Dave shakes his head, still not really ready to broach that topic. He may have accepted the fact that he’s into Karkat specifically, but he’s been avoiding thinking about his actual sexuality like the fucking plague.

He sort of gets the vibe that Karkat is misunderstanding him, though. And he’s elaborating again before he can actually put his thoughts together.

“I meant that I don’t usually fuck with guys. No, not usually, I _never_ fuck with guys. And you were all hard and all rubbing up on me, and it was _hot,_ it was so fucking hot, but I kinda panicked, I guess, thinking I was all of a sudden going to be taking my first dick, and I just… Ugh, I already told you.”

God, is he fucking glad that his professor can’t see his eyes. He’s being a total loser, and he wouldn’t be surprised if Karkat didn’t want him anymore.

Karkat eye widen when he realizes he’s been using Dave’s name aloud, saying it like a lover would, speaking to Dave as if they’re _breaking up._

Nothing exists between them, what even is there to break up over? 

Why is it so painful then? Is it the denial of the forbidden? Is it the promise of what beauty they could make together? Their relationship is like a plant, and Karkat can choose to either yank it out of the ground or water it carefully. But he knows what he should do, and it’s to cut whatever budding relationship from the neck. 

Karkat frowns at what Dave says. Older women? Older… wait. 

Oh. 

_Oh._

Dave’s never been with a man before. 

Never been with a man, and he wanted to— oh, _wow,_ he wanted to be with Karkat as his first. Given that all this is genuine, and well… Karkat finds himself thinking it is. Which is abnormal. 

The first thought Karkat has knowing this is that now he needs to make sure Dave’s first time is perfect. 

Which no, there’s not going to be a first time. Karkat’s trying to stop this from happening, isn’t he?

He proves himself weak seconds later when he looks up at Dave with raised eyebrows and a curious but hesitant expression. 

“So you’ve… never been with another man before?” 

The answer is terribly visible in the uncomfortable way Dave holds himself. He looks unhappy. 

Karkat pities him immediately. He remembers so well the confusion he once had, just like Dave clearly has now. Karkat remembers he didn’t do much exploring, but what he had done was enough. 

So Dave was nervous and scared at having his first time with another man.

How is it possible that Dave isn’t worried about sleeping with a superior? How is that not his main concern? Possibly because Karkat is far more liable than Dave is, but still. 

At the forefront of Karkat’s mind remains the understanding that he could be Dave’s first time. This makes his pants get a little tighter, somehow particularly arousing.

But also… all of Dave’s flirtations. Had they all been for the purpose of… _experimenting_ with him? 

Karkat doesn’t know how much he likes it put that way, however accurate it is. Nonetheless, his body speaks for him, heart rate increasing as he considers helping Dave fully experience _making love_ with another man for the first time, the way his imagination has supplied him for several days now: feeling himself inside Dave while he presses him into soft sheets, whispering sweet nothings and praise into the skin of Dave’s shoulder as he explores his body and all those other curiously mentioned piercings… 

Fuck. Karkat wants it so badly. He’s burning up for Dave, and it’s almost hotter now with this newfound information.

“You’ve never been with a man and you want me to be your first… Goddamnit, Dave. You’re fucking killing me right now,” Karkat growls, name slipping out once more. He crosses his arms and makes himself look away, sighing heavily. “We can’t do this. We can’t. We— You don’t get to try again because… this shouldn’t have happened in the first place… _Fuck._ I meant it when I said I wanted you, Dave. I really did. And now that you’ve said it, I want to show you what it’s like, how good it can feel. But I… I shouldn’t be the one to do that for you.” 

He weak, if only because he says _shouldn’t_ and not _can’t._

“Stop saying it like I’m some kind of blushing virgin, because I’m _not,”_ Dave says, but even as he says it, he can feel how hot his face is.

And this _I want you but we can’t_ song and dance is getting real old real quick. So he uncrosses his arms and takes a step around the desk.

“You’re acting like we’re Romeo and fuckin’ Juliet, and I’m a little bit over it.”

Another step. He reaches for his professor, catching the end of his tie between his fingers.

“The way I see it… I’m already nailing your class, so no one will think it’s suspicious is you start nailing _me.”_

His hands move up Karkat’s tie as he fits himself between the man and his desk. He’s pulling Karkat in, because fuck it, if Karkat wants him, he’s going to _have him._

His heart is _racing_ the closer they get, and it feels like it’s in slow motion as their mouths come closer and closer together. He’s already halfway hard again, just _thinking_ about that big body smashed up against his, so he completely melts when they finally kiss.

He moans quietly around it, damn near squirming with how wound up he is. He breaks away just enough to murmur a, “Please…” because if _that_ won’t break his professor, nothing will.

A delirious laugh bubbles up out of Karkat’s mouth at what Dave says, unwanted but uncontrollable. He’s frozen in place as Dave moves in on him, and he’s not sure who in this moment is the moth and who is the flame. 

Dave’s fingers on his shirt as he takes his tie sends small shocks through to his skin, and then he’s kissing him again. 

Except this time, it’s Dave that instigates.

It’s Dave begging for him. 

Karkat folds immediately, hand reaching up to slide into Dave’s hair and hold his head as he kisses him back. The taste of Dave’s mouth is sinful but heavenly, and all that matters is the movement of Karkat’s lips on his as he grows more frenzied for it. 

He presses Dave into the desk at the front of this lecture hall, forgetting his surroundings entirely as he loses himself in the kiss. His other hand takes a handful of Dave’s shirt, tugging him closer still, wanting nothing more than to collapse all the space and barriers that ever existed between them until it’s just their two bodies creating heat and friction. 

What does Dave feel like, under his clothes? 

Karkat needs to have him. All logic fades away in the face of this absolute truth. 

He finally breaks away from the kiss, hands tightening in Dave’s hair as if to not let him leave. 

“We can’t…” Karkat starts to say with panting breaths against Dave’s mouth, mind completely fried. “We can’t do this here.” 

Dave is _thrilled_ when his professor grabs for him, holding onto his hair and kissing him like his life depends on it. He never knew having his hair pulled could be _so good,_ but then again, he never knew a lot of things about himself, apparently.

He loves the way Karkat towers over him, boxes him in with his larger body. He loves being pushed down, taken over by someone who wants him so fucking badly. He loves the flat chest that’s pressed so tightly against his own, loves the bruising way Karkat kisses him.

All things he never thought he needed.

All things he _desperately_ needs now.

Women never made him feel this frenzied. This out of his mind. This hopeless desire to be _taken care of._ He was always the one doing the caring, the doting attention. But he has a feeling that his professor is about to blow his fucking mind.

His heart freezes in his chest when Karkat starts to say _we can’t._

_No, no, they came so far, why the fuck can’t they just--_

But then Karkat is giving him this _look_ and telling him they need to get out of here.

A choked, breathless laugh escapes Dave’s lips. He’s not sure if he’s ever wanted someone this badly before, to be _scared_ that he was about to be sent on his way. Now he feels even worse for making Karkat stop before.

He watches his own hands move, one still wrapped around Karkat’s tie, one feeling it’s way down Karkat’s chest. He hums and looks back up. “Office?” he asks. He’s pretty sure Karkat wouldn’t want to come back to his dorm room.

Karkat momentarily entertains the thought of continuing where they left off yesterday back in his office. He never realized his desk was such a perfect height for fucking someone while their legs wrapped around him.

But he has the reminder that this road they are traveling down leads to Dave’s first time with a man. This gives Karkat pause. No, his office won’t do. 

Looking fondly down at Dave, Karkat shakes his head ever so slightly. 

His hand in Dave’s shirt lifts up to cup his face, the other still sliding through his hair. Dave is smaller than him, but fits so perfectly up against him, in his hands. 

“Come home with me,” Karkat murmurs, his thumb coming down to brush over Dave’s lower lip. He looks at him through dark, slitted eyes. “Let me take take of you.” 

Dave _laguhs--_ because it’s the only thing he can do to cover up the sudden rush of feelings he has. His professor wants to take care of him? Take him home and make sweet love to him? It’s not exactly the wild, unchecked fantasy he had in mind, but… he can’t deny that it sounds… nice.

The gentle way Karkat thumbs his lip fills him with a whole other kind of need. He stands by that thing he said about not being a blushing virgin, even if he’s sure his face is probably redder than a rose.

“Sure…” he agrees. He closes his eyes and tucks into Karkat’s touch, for just a moment, before he’s overwhelmed with the need to kiss Karkat again.

So he does, leaning up to press his lips to his professor’s in a long, tender thing that even shocks himself.

“You live close?” he asks. His lips still brush against Karkat’s when he speaks because he hasn’t pulled away. He can’t. He doesn’t want to. He’s not sure if he can wait however long it’ll take to get to Karkat’s place. He just wants to be grabbed and kissed again and feel Karkat’s weight on top of him.

“Close enough,” Karkat sighs into his mouth.

It takes them several minutes to extricate from each other, stopping the kissing and touching over their clothes. 

Looks like he’s canceling those office hours after all. 


	5. Chapter 5

“Think you can keep it together long enough to get to my car?” Karkat teases Dave, who doesn’t seem to want to stop touching him as Karkat finishes gathering his things. Karkat can’t blame him, he’s having similar trouble.

Thank goodness he drives here. Worst case scenario that someone sees them together on the way to his car he can just claim that Dave is accompanying him for an important paper that was left in it, or they were going to have a meeting, or whatever from the litany of professional excuses Karkat can grab immediately from his arousal-addled mind. 

On the brisk walk over, by some grace they don’t run into anyone of concern to Karkat, which he is on high alert for. Dave can probably read the anxiety in his stick-straight spine. The walk drains some of the rush out of him, replacing it with focus for the next directive, which is getting Dave home and comfortable in his bed. An element of doubt returns, but everytime he turns to look at Dave, looking back at him, he’s filled with resolve again. 

Finally, Karkat’s sitting in his driver’s seat looking at Dave next to him, biting his lip as he considers the situation.

He can’t just be seen driving out of here with him. 

“Fuck, I can’t believe I’m saying this. Can you… maybe… lay down in the seat while we drive out of here.” 

Dave halts, seat belt in hand, halfway to being buckled, and gives his professor a look. Really? The fucking audacity…

And Dave is very nearly actually offended by the comment, until a better idea strikes him. Dave is no one if not petty, and revenge will always be his.

He lets go of the seat belt, letting it snap back up into place, and says, “Sure thing. No worries.” He shuffles in his seat until he’s on his knees, and then he’s crouching down to lay across Karkat’s lap.

Innocently, he nuzzles into Karkat’s stomach, before laying his head down on the man’s thigh and looking up at him with a pleased sigh.

“Is this good? No one can see me, right?”

Karkat watches in horror as Dave gets on the floor and practically puts his face in his crotch.

Amazing.

Perfect.

Just when he was able to calm himself down enough to walk across campus, Dave goes and does this.

“If you must do that, no they cannot,” Karkat grumbles and sighs frustratedly, but he gives himself away showing that he doesn’t really mind by reaching forward to run fingers through Dave’s hair once. 

Okay, focus on driving now, not on Dave Strider positioning himself in ways that are dangerously close to Karkat’s fantasies. He pulls his hand back to put his car in reverse so he can pull out of the parking spot and get out of there.

“Just… stay down there.” _Focus._ He can do this, he won’t let Dave distract him. He’s already distracted enough with the hazy dream glow everything now has with the high of knowing what’s about to happen with Dave. It’s a wonder his hands can stay still at all on the steering wheel. 

Dave’s heart rate spikes with Karkat’s hand in his hair, and he nearly melts into it again before Karkat is already gone. Okay, so he’s definitely discovered that he likes his hair played with. Not the worst thing he could discover about himself, considering.

Okay, focus. He’s definitely going to make Karkat regret putting him down here.

With a careful hand, he smooths a palm across Karkat’s thigh. It’s right up at the crease, moving in, in, until rubbing back again. He caresses Karkat’s thigh just like that, slow, teasing, until he looks up to where Karkat’s pressed shirt is tucked into his slacks.

He finds himself wondering what Karkat’s skin feels like. He thinks about tugging the hem of his shirt out, slipping fingers underneath to feel the heat of him in his hands.

He bites his lip, suddenly realizing exactly what position he’s put himself in. He _knew_ what he was doing, of course he did, but with his face actually pressed in so close Karkat’s junk, it’s a different story. It’s… right there, isn’t it. Right next to his face.

Time to deflect, before he can psyche himself out again.

“I bet you’ve thought about this a lot, right? The way you fixate on my tongue… How many times have you gotten off thinking about this little gold ball licking across your skin? Pressing into your dick while I suck you off?”

 _Fuck,_ okay, that did not make Dave feel better. If anything, it made it _worse,_ and he buries his nose between Karkat’s thighs to hide the way it makes him flush. Major fucking backfire.

Now _he’s_ thinking about it.

Usually, if Karkat was in public and found himself aroused, he would just shift in his seat and adjust himself.

He can’t do that right now.

He’s prisoner to his car, to Dave caged in his lap, to his evocative words. Dave’s hands are quick to begin touching him, and honestly, Karkat should have seen this coming. The hand on his thigh is enough of an erogenous zone to begin heating up Karkat’s core up all over again.

He wants to touch him back so badly, but he’s got to focus on driving and making it appear to the outer world that nothing is amiss here. Karkat is pulling off campus just as Dave starts saying all that to him.

He wants to close his eyelids as those scenes flicker across his imagination. Better yet, he wants to make them a reality.

“You know, you’ve got quite a mouth on you, Dave Strider,” he says softly, eyes on the road. He only needs one hand on the steering wheel now, so the other goes back to touching Dave’s face, pressing the thumb to the corner of his mouth again and threatening to slip in. “I’d love to see what else you can do with it other than just _talk.”_

Wow, okay. He doesn’t usually talk like that. He’s practically challenging Dave. It’s possible that he’s thought about it once or twice… or a few hundred times. Has Dave thought about it? 

Hot arousal churns in Dave’s gut and spreads like a fire. It’s true, Dave can’t keep up with his own mouth most of the time, and it gets him into a lot of trouble sometimes. But this… doesn’t feel like trouble.

He’s _excited._

With an exaggerated moan, he sucks Karkat’s thumb into his mouth. He rolls the ball of his piercing into the pad of the thumb with practiced ease. This, he knows. This, he’s used to. Using the piercing to his advantage and making girls weak in the knees before he goes down on them.

This… has a whole other implication, though. It’s easy to roll his piercing over a finger, tease a pretty little clit, but with a whole dick shoved into his mouth? Suddenly he’s a little insecure again, about his inexperience, and what if he doesn’t live up to Karkat’s expectations?

Holy shit, he is thinking too much. Don’t think. Just keep rubbing your piercing into the pad of your professor’s thumb like the messy tease that you apparently are.

He tapers off of it, letting his tongue slide all the way up to the tip of the finger before nuzzling into the palm of Karkat’s hand. “I don’t know about any of that, Professor. You might need to teach me a lesson, if you want me to keep my mouth shut.”

Karkat can’t help it, he sucks in a breath when Dave takes his thumb into his mouth, teasing him with that tongue. 

“Yeah, just like that,” he can’t help but tease, because _fuck,_ it seems like Dave is talented with that mouth in multiple ways. 

“I can’t wait to feel you,” he lets out softly right after. He honestly can’t remember the last time he was as turned on as this. 

Then he smiles, a little slyly. “Oh, if I’m being honest, I’m bringing you home just so that I can hear every sound out of you. No, I don’t think I intend to shut you up much at all, Mr. Strider.”

Where’s all this coming from? Karkat’s no flirt. All of this is being drawn out of him by Dave alone. 

And Karkat… kind of likes it. 

The whole professor-bad student play never did much for him, but with Dave… it just might. 

On the other hand, he kind of wants to hear his own name off Dave’s lips, at least eventually.

Especially when he’ll be inside him. 

The desire laced through Karkat’s words gives Dave that feeling again. The one from the other day: being thoroughly _wanted._ Karkat wants him, and there’s no way around it, no matter how many times he tries to push Dave away.

“Bold of you, to assume that I’m a screamer,” he says, with one more slow, slow lick up the side of Karkat’s thumb. “Or do you just think you’re that good?”

Honestly, it’s all talk. He has a feeling that he’s going to eat those words, if their previous encounters are anything to go off of, and honestly Dave can’t fucking wait.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to, because soon enough the car is pulling to a stop. The hand that’s still holding Karkat’s thigh gives a firm squeeze as he starts to sit up a little.

He plays up the offended act, just to see if Karkat will kiss him and make it better. “Is it safe? Am I allowed to be seen?”

Karkat flushes again. Okay, maybe it’s been awhile since he did this kind of sideways dance with another person. But he’s _pent up._ It’s not like he’s terribly out of shape either. 

“I’ll let you be the judge of that,” he answers. 

Then he gives Dave a shit eating grin. 

“Honestly you could have gotten up several minutes ago, I just thought you looked so nice down there.” 

He pulls Dave over for a kiss again, a quick soft one then pulls away, letting his eyes playfully roam over his face, taking him in 

He’s really got to do something about those sunglasses. What’s the deal anyways?

With that he leads Dave inside, except it’s kind of a struggle. Very little talking happens because Dave is busy kissing him every chance he gets, getting handsy enough Karkat can barely get to his keys. 

His body is humming with excitement as he closes the door behind him. His hands are actually _shaking._

Whatever it is, excitement, nerves, he tries to deal with it by pushing Dave up against the first available surface, the wall in the hallway, and kissing him deeply. 

Still shaking and absurdly aroused, he stops, breathing heavily as he’s pressed up against Dave, holding him against the wall by his shoulders, and he realizes he really needs a drink. He sighs against Dave’s lips and pulls back. 

“Since we’re already doing things we shouldn’t do, I’m going to do one more thing I shouldn’t: offer you a drink. Ever had scotch?” 

He’s actually not sure if Dave is underage, though this might be his way of finding out. 

Dave is stupidly giddy the whole way inside. He can’t keep his hands or his lips off his professor, and he’s rewarded for it nicely when he’s thrown against a wall inside Karkat’s apartment. It boosts his confidence to see how worked up Karkat is, to feel his hands shake as he holds him.

They’re fucking _doing this,_ aren’t they?

Instead of scared or nervous, though, it only makes Dave want the man pressed against that much more. In a weird way, even though they don’t really know each other that well yet, he trusts Karkat to do the right thing. To make him feel good, where Dave might not know how.

 _Let me take care of you,_ he had said.

He’s left breathless as Karkat pulls from their kiss. The hands on his shoulders are probably the only reason he’s still standing, with how weak his knees are.

“Scotch? What are you trying to do, impress me?”

He grins, and maybe his heart flutters just a little. Karkat has no reason to do anything but what they came here for: to throw Dave down on his bed and rearrange his guts. But here he is, being all… charming.

Wow.

“My usual poison isn’t so classy. I could go for a drink, though.”

Karkat laughs a little but he is somewhat relieved. So Dave is at least of age, or at least that’s what it sounds like. 

That’s… kind of good to know. Obviously Dave is an adult, but still… Karkat wants to know Dave is making a decision he won’t regret later, and he can’t lie that for him at least, age is a concern. 

“Please, I think I have better methods of impressing you. But I suppose it’s good to know the bar is that low.” He winks and steps away from Dave, taking his hand to lead him over to the living room where he nods to the couch and separates from Dave to get the drinks. He tries to roll his shoulders out as he steps away, hoping the anxious excitement will just leave him already so that his body doesn’t feel as if it’s a humming live wire. Maybe he needs this drink more than Dave does, and for this to be his first time, he _really_ needs it.

Karkat’s also unsteady on his feet with it being a while since he’s interacted with someone in this sort of capacity, but he is finding himself comfortable in this banter with Dave. It comes naturally. 

He goes over to the table along the wall with the glass decanter that was gifted to him by a previous student and picks it up in one hand as he flips over two glass cups with the other. 

“To be completely honest, a drink is in your best interest. I want you to be fully relaxed for what’s to come. And… it does help, speaking from experience.” He lets that hang in the air for a moment as he pours two gratuitous glasses. Hopefully Dave likes it, he himself didn’t develop a taste for the stuff until just a few years ago. He has alternatives elsewhere if need be. He turns back to Dave with one in each hand, coming back around the couch and reaching one out towards him. “I did promise you would be cared for.”

Dave is all but swept off his feet as he follows Karkat’s lead. The cute banter, the sly little wink… Dave is easy to let himself be taken away by it.

He’s awestruck as he watches Karkat work around the decanter, and honestly, he can’t keep his eyes off the man. The buzzing under his skin and the way his heart beats are overwhelming as he realizes that Karkat is actually _so sweet._

That’s not fair.

He takes the glass that’s offered to him and immediately takes an experimental sip. It’s not… terrible. It’s definitely alcohol. It’s drinkable. He takes another sip before he catches on to what Karkat is trying to say.

For lack of a better word, he’s trying to get Dave to loosen up.

His heart throbs in his chest again, being both charmed by the extra attention, and reminded of what’s to come next. Fuck, he’s probably _never_ wanted to get into someone’s pants this badly before.

He realizes how uncharacteristically quiet he’s been, and he hopes it’s not super fucking obvious that he was just… staring the whole time. Shit, he’s in for it. He’s so fucked.

“I appreciate it,” he says, as Karkat sits beside him. And _that_ just won’t do, will it? So Dave takes the liberty of slipping himself into Karkat’s lap. He straddles Karkat’s thighs, with enough space between them to remain arguably innocent while they have their drinks.

It’s just… so stupidly intimate, and Dave can hardly stand it. He takes off his shades and folds them onto the side table. He leans in to give Karkat’s cheek a long, appreciative kiss, before finally sitting back and taking another sip of his drink.

“Full disclosure, if you were worried, I’m twenty one. No laws to be broken here tonight. Except maybe the one where it’s illegal to be so fucking sexy. How was I supposed to know you were going to woo me like this? Smooth mother fucker, I feel attacked.”

Karkat freezes momentarily as Dave gets in his lap and straddles him boldly.

They are very close now, and this is quite the suggestive position. It makes Karkat want to speed things up, but for some reason he wants to savor this build up. 

Dave drinks the scotch like it’s nothing. Karkat is a little impressed. 

Maybe he’s just very well practiced with liquor, him being at the ripe age for college drinking.

What catches him is when he removes the sunglasses, which Karkat had been somewhat curious about up to this point. This is a new development. But he doesn’t get a moment to appreciate the full view as Dave is leaning in to kiss his cheek. Karkat exhales softly, not expecting the gentle action. Dave’s soft lips on his skin make Karkat want to kiss him again. Instead, he takes a long sip of the drink and averts his eyes. 

Karkat snorts and looks down into his drink as he talks. “I have to admit it’s a bit of a relief. But attacked, hm? If I was going to _woo_ you, it wouldn’t be so simple. Is romance really that dead on the college campuses of today? Be glad that all I’m trying to do is get you in my bed.”

 _Stop bragging about being a romance expert,_ Karkat tells himself. _You don’t have anything to brag about, you’ve been single for years._

Though it’s not like he’s actively been trying to date anyone. His life just became a constant cycle of, _Oh, next year_ until he was suddenly thirty-three with no prospects. 

So he was single, but with a lot of imagination and a secret addiction to the idea. How could he not be when it’s so prevalent in literature? 

God forbid Dave see his office, and all the passages he obsessed over just the other night laid out all over it.

It’s with those words that he finally looks up and sees Dave’s eyes, and he realizes he’s not seen Dave without those sunglasses as of yet.

What he sees, those eyes, those eyes filled with something he can’t define yet, his handsome face looking at Karkat with amusement that he can now tell thinly covers his anxiety, and maybe excitement… 

It makes Karkat breathless, and the words just fall out of his mouth. 

“Wow, you’re beautiful.”

Immediately he sputters and his skin turns hot, and he deals with this by taking another long sip of the scotch. All those romantic books and themes are just leaking out of him at the slightest provocation, aren’t they? But he’s not trying to woo Dave. He just wants to get out this latent sexual overflow that’s overtaken him as of late. 

“...um…”

Dave’s eyes grow slightly wider with the compliment. He doesn’t know what to say, and it takes him a second to even realize where it came from. Right, he’s only really seen Karkat in public, and by extension, with the shades on.

But _beautiful?_

Dave has been called a lot of things, but nothing quite so sappy. At least, not often. Or as softly. As earnest or honest. Without the pretense of Dave being inside them.

Point is, he’s not used to it, and it makes him look away while pink fades into his cheeks. He tells himself the warmth is from the alcohol, though, and not because Karkat makes him feel anything.

“Uh, thanks,” he finally manages to say. “You’re not so hard to look at, yourself,” he adds, and in an attempt to get back on track, he puts his free hand on Karkat’s chest. He watches his hand move as it slides across the pressed shirt. He still can’t wait to see what’s underneath, and the very slight buzz he’s starting to feel only makes him want it more.

So he takes another drink, maybe a little bit more than a sip. It spreads quickly in him, uncurling like a cozy little campfire. It gives him the confidence boost he needs to look back up and meet Karkat’s eye again.

God, what is it about this that makes him feel like he’s never done it before? The flirting, the touching, the kissing, he’s very familiar with all of that. It should be easy when he moves a hand up to start pulling Karkat’s tie undone, so why does it make his chest feel like it’s full of cotton?

Fuck that. Dave is so good at this, he’s so confident and experienced and definitely has no reason to be fucking nervous. He’s not nervous, he’s just a little buzzed and very horny. That’s all.

As if to prove it to himself, he shifts further into Karkat’s lap, until they’re hip to hip, and leans down to catch Karkat’s lips in another kiss.

Karkat loves the weight of Dave on him, he loves Dave pressing closer in his lap, and he knows it won’t be much longer before he gets Dave out of those clothes, the only issue keeping them separate now. 

He needs to get something to help with the actual physical loosening up of Dave, which he completely forgot to do before sitting down on the couch. He’ll need to convince Dave to come to his room with him after this bit of foreplay.

Any of these thoughts fade away as Dave leans in to kiss him again, his breath now tasting half like scotch, half like _Dave._ The scotch only acts to highlight everything delicious about the way Dave tastes. His other hand slides back up into Dave’s hair, just sliding through once to feel as their mouths move against each other’s, then again and actually taking a fistful, pulling Dave’s face back and way by force.

“Finish the drink,” he commands, a little breathless against Dave’s lips. “Then we’re going to my room.” He holds Dave’s head there and leans forward to kiss him, biting his bottom lip and pulling it away with his teeth, just a taste. His voice drops down to a low, gravely sound. “And there I’m going to fuck you like I’ve been thinking about for a week now.”

Yes, maybe he’d like to feel Dave’s piercing on his dick, but that’s not important right now. Dave’s made it clear to him that this is his first time with a guy, and he’s not about to force something like that on him. He’s already taking on enough as is with wanting to be fucked. Karkat can sympathize with that. Unless Dave wants to, at least. Karkat knows he would happily return the favor, making Dave moan and writhe above him in a different way than when he’s inside him.

This makes him wonder about other things too, like if Dave has ever fingered himself, and if he’s sensitive to that kind of stimulation.

If not, Karkat can’t wait to find out. 

Dave sinks into the kiss, heavy and wet and so very close. The hand in his hair makes him hum into a moan. A moan that sharply cuts off into a gasp when Karkat _pulls._ He grinds down into Karkat’s lap, an automatic reflex to the _very good_ force of his head snapping back.

The eye contact he makes with Karkat is loaded. It’s dark and readily compliant. The demanding, confident tone Karkat is giving him is making him feel some type of fucking way, and he’s more than willing to do what he’s told at this point.

He knocks back the rest of his drink and sets the glass down on the side table, listening to it clink with finality.

“Someone sure the fuck slipped into authority mode, didn’t he?” he says, with a sly grin spreading on his face. “You trying to be my professor still, hm? My daddy?” Even as the word comes out of his own mouth, it feels _dirty._ Christ, Dave doesn’t have an off switch, does he?

It’s undeniably alluring, all the same, so he rolls with it and keeps going.

“Are you going to carry me in there? Lie me on your bed and hold me down. Teach me how to take that cock any way you want. Tell me what you want to do to me.”

His heart is _racing_ and he’s not sure if he can sit here for another second. He’s so fucking hard, so he rocks his hips into Karkat’s stomach, just to let him feel it. He catches the ball of his piercing between his teeth, the way someone might bite their lip to be coy. Maybe it’s overkill, but he doesn’t fucking care.

Karkat, of course, takes a sip at the wrong time, grinning as Dave knocks his back like he asks. 

What Dave says immediately after makes him choke, the gasoline-like liquor burning his throat as it goes down. The back of his hand flies to his mouth and he regards the look on Dave’s face, the way he rolls that piercing between his teeth.. 

Yes, Karkat’s always loved teaching, but he never realized he might love teaching in this way. Dave’s really teaching Karkat a bit about himself just as much as he’s teaching Dave. He didn’t think about continuing the whole professor-student dynamic into the bedroom, and maybe it’s a little too close to home, but he kind of likes it. 

_My daddy._

Karkat’s also never thought himself a control freak, but damn if Dave’s hasn’t been begging Karkat to just _put him in line_ this entire time. 

Dave will never stop surprising him, at least. For a young man about to take his first cock he’s handling the situation quite well. Better than well, actually. It’s almost as if Dave intends to break him, push him to the limit with those hips grinding down on him, that look in his eye and that multi-talented mouth, but Karkat just won’t let him. 

He’s going to break Dave. 

The way he reacted to Karkat’s hand in his hair did not go unnoticed. Karkat watches Dave as he finishes his glass and tosses it to the side of the couch, exhaling the burn away this time. He hopes the look in his eyes spell trouble for the young man. 

He reaches up with both hands, one sliding back to grasp his hair, the other pinching Dave’s chin and bringing him forward for another kiss, a ferocious one that has Karkat licking into his mouth, claiming those lips and that tongue and the piercing and his taste, all his if only for the moment. 

He holds Dave terribly steady, pulling his hair again even harder, but it doesn’t do much except get Dave more turned on, it seems, moaning into his mouth and grinding down harder with another undulation of his hips that Karkat wants to meet in the middle. 

Karkat decides he just can’t handle it anymore. 

When he separates from Dave the liquor is buzzing within just enough to let the words out, the kind of words that he would otherwise let hang below the surface. 

“I think you want that, don’t you? You want me to hold you down while I give you my cock. Just look at you, you’re hard just talking about it. You keep grinding on me like you’re begging for it. Because you are, aren’t you? How much longer would it take before you beg for me?” 

Then he shoves Dave off of him and stands from the couch, not hiding the tenting of his pants at all now. He’s hot under his clothes and he needs them off. He needs the clothes on Dave off even more. 

The bulge in his pants is right near Dave’s face level now, and he puts a hand out for Dave to take. 

“Let’s go, unless you want me to make you.” 

Dave is left scrambling and breathless when Karkat pulls his hair again. His dick jumps in his jeans, throbs with Karkat’s words, and it makes him grin so wide he can’t help the choked laugh that comes out. Well damn, Karkat sure figured him out quickly, didn’t he?

In truth, he’s more than willing to beg for it, but that’s not exactly the point, is it? This banter they’ve been building, the challenge, the shove and pull of it; where’s the fun if he doesn’t put up a little bit of a fight?

He takes Karkat’s offered hand, but he doesn’t stand up. Instead, he wraps his other hand around Karkat’s thigh and pulls him closer by it. He brings his cheek in to rest against Karkat’s hip, right below the line of his belt. When he looks up to give Karkat a defiant gaze, his nose very nearly brushes the obvious arousal sat in front of it.

It makes his heart leap up into his throat, with his inexperienced mouth this close to Karkat’s dick again. He won’t let the anxiety win, though, because as flustered as he might be by it, he still _wants it._ His mouth is practically _watering_ for it.

“And if I say make me?” he dares.

He wonders if Karkat actually has it in him. He’s aggressive, sure, with his _words._ But he’s yet to actually push Dave around. Not that Dave has really given him the opportunity.

Or… that Dave even knew that was a thing he wanted, before the last several minutes transpired.

Looking down at Dave as he presses his face against his crotch, Karkat suddenly feels like he could do it. He could unzip his pants and feed himself into Dave’s mouth, the tease it’s fucking been this whole time, and finally, _finally,_ feel that tongue on him like he’s been fantasizing about. 

His hand slips down and takes a hold of Dave’s chin again, slipping a thumb to the corner of his mouth and wedging in, one hand going to the button of his pants. 

He takes a deep breath in, and suddenly clarity rushes in.

No, this wasn’t what this was about. 

Well, _yes,_ it was about this insane sexual chemistry that’s been brewing up to explosive levels between them, but this specifically isn’t what Karkat promised him. He wanted to take care of Dave, not force him into something, as much as he really wanted to. Dave was just playing right now. 

Wow, Dave really did draw something out of him there, didn’t he. Karkat almost panics in the face of it, because he almost crossed a line. Just with the way Dave had been talking and acting and flashing that piercing, Karkat just couldn’t help but feel… No. Only if Dave asks for it, and that _wasn’t asking for it._

Whatever it was he brought out of Karkat for a moment there, he could go back to it. Karkat’s aware of it now, this side of him that is suddenly taking up space in his brain where it wasn’t before. 

Karkat has to keep it in check now, as much as it also scares him that it exists. He can’t believe he just said all that, either. Suddenly all those vulgar words are echoing in his head, and Karkat feels _guilty._ Where was the softer, introductory sex he wanted to have with Dave only a few minutes ago? Was it always going to inevitably become aggressive and domineering? Was it just the alcohol, reaching into his subconscious and messily pulling out these repressed drives? 

_Deal with it later._

He hates that he’s kind of breaking the moment, but it doesn’t _feel right._

“I…” Karkat trails off, slipping his thumb out of Dave’s mouth. Fuck, Dave just went so nicely pliant for him, just like that. Karkat feels torn all over again. “No.”

Then he sighs, reaching down to pull Dave up by an arm until he’s standing next to him.

“I’m not going to make you do anything, Dave,” he says, and why is his throat so dry now? “I’m just going to make you feel good.” Why does he also feel that if he had given Dave his cock, he would have taken it willingly, like he wanted it, no force to be had, like he enjoyed it? 

Karkat leans forward and kisses Dave’s forehead impulsively, like an apology, and takes Dave’s hand, nodding toward his bedroom. “Are you ready?” 

Dave gets lost in a heady, submissive arousal as Karkat’s thumb slips into his mouth. He’s down and ready to take literally anything Karkat gives him, right here, without another word. His heart pounds in his own ears as he watches karkat finger the button of his pants.

But then he’s yanked from the fantasy as Karkat pulls him up to his feet. He barely registers what Karkat is saying to him before a kiss is pressed to his forehead. He looks up into Karkat’s eyes, and he’s hazy, but he hears the words repeat like a kickback in his head. 

_I just want to make you feel good._

It knocks the sense back into him, at least a little bit. He groans and wraps his arms around Karkat’s waist, burying his face against him. What the hell is wrong with him? Acting like a brat, when Karkat is so clearly trying to make this sweet for him? It’s like he’s chewing up Karkat’s efforts and spitting them back in his face like they don’t matter.

“Yeah…” he finally murmurs. “I’m ready.”

He pulls back enough to give Karkat an apologetic look. “I’m not trying to be difficult, I’m...” He’s about to say he’s sorry, but is he really? He loved every bit of where that was headed just now. But now isn’t the right time for that, he guesses. “...Just. Lead the way. I’ll be good.”

Fuck, he’s still doing it. Karkat doesn’t want him to _be good,_ he just wants him to _feel good._ “I mean-- shit, can you please kiss me again so I can stop making an ass of myself?”

Karkat’s ready to move, but then suddenly Dave is wrapping around him. Karkat’s eyebrows lift in surprise and a hand reflexively comes up to rest on Dave’s back to complete the embrace. 

He snorts and pushes Dave away, only a little just so that he can look at his face. With one hand he hooks a finger under Dave’s chin and gently rests his thumb right under Dave’s bottom lip. He tilts Dave’s face to look up at him, pressing one small kiss before pulling away but still hiding his chin like that and smiling softly at him. 

“Difficult?” One more kiss. “Definitely not. Aggravating?” Another. “Maybe a little. A tease?” One more kiss, much longer. “ Absolutely. Overall, I think you’ve been perfect,” Karkat murmurs as he holds that gaze with Dave, searching his eyes, until it’s too much, too close to handle. He finally drops his hand from Dave’s face to take his hand. “Er, highest marks across the board.” He jokes to break up the intimate moment. 

Well, at least he’s calmed down a little now. 

With that he steps backwards, leading Dave away from the couch and to his room.


	6. Chapter 6

The barrage of kisses has Dave feeling… something. Heard? Seen? Valued? There’s no way he can go so quickly from having his face stuffed in Karkat’s crotch to something this mushy, he’s going to get fucking whiplash.

Undeniably, he still _likes it_ though. He’s starting to get this sinking feeling that it might not just be the thrill of his first time with a guy, it might just be… Karkat.

Well _that’s_ something he does not need weighing on him while he’s trying to get dicked down.

He shoves the idea back _deep_ inside where it belongs as he follows Karkat to the bedroom. He’s quick to toe off his shoes and socks, because honestly, that’s the least sexy part of getting undressed for him, and he’d rather get it out of the way. That’s as far as he gets with himself, though, because then he’s turning on Karkat again and going for the top buttons on his shirt.

“I’ve been thinking about what you look like under this formalwear since you told the class you wanted to _get intimate,”_ he admits. It’s hard to believe that was only two weeks ago. It seems like he’s been struggling with his glaring attraction for longer than that.

His eyes follow his own fingers, watching as a line of Karkat’s chest slowly becomes available to him. He sicks in a breath, because he’s overwhelmed again with the need for skin on skin. Suddenly, he can’t get Karkat’s shirt undone fast enough.

Karkat is rather conscious about being seen with his shirt off, but thankfully the combination of alcohol and the sexual excitement burns over that. With the way Dave’s looking at him right now, it’s actually kind of possible for him to feel like he actually might be kind of… hot. Sexy, even.

It reminds him of one of his previous TAs when they asked Karkat if he had looked at his rate my professor page, which Karkat then explained he vehemently refused to on the grounds of it being based on completely arbitrary measures like what grade the student thought they should have gotten versus received. It actually ended up being quite the rant, if Karkat remembers correctly.

As soon as he was done, the TA had brought it up on her cell phone to Karkat’s horror and began reading off a few before he walked right out on her.

_I want this daddy to make me pancakes after pouring his man syrup alllllll over me_ was about as far as she got before he was gone.

It’s one of those extremely rare moments where Karkat actually maybe wants to know if there’s any consistent truth behind that sentiment.

Karkat laughs at what Dave says, oh god he forgot he said that. Wasn’t that what he said that started all of this? The first time Dave sat in the front row. 

It’s with relief that he walks Dave back into his room and confirms that yes, he did at least put his bed into something assembling made this morning before leaving.

Which, maybe Karkat shouldn’t really care what Dave perceives of him after this. At the very least he can tell himself he doesn’t want Dave thinking him some sloppy bachelor.

“What? Were you mentally undressing me the whole time I stood up there?”

Karkat really enjoys the feeling of Dave’s fingers trailing down his chest as he undoes his shirt button by button. Before he knows it Dave is pulling it open and putting hands on his bare chest. 

“Someone’s eager,” he murmurs. Karkat can feel it in the way Dave touches him, and it’s different from the way Dave had dogged him getting into his home, which had been playful at best. This is hunger now. Karkat is taken aback when he realizes the way Dave is looking at him is full of so much _want._

Karkat can’t wait to give Dave all he can take.

He dips his fingers under Dave’s shirt and starts about returning the favor and getting Dave out of those clothes.

Karkat’s just as hungry for Dave as Dave is for him, really. 

Dave doesn’t realize how entranced he is, until he feels Karkat start to tug at his t-shirt. He can’t even feel lame for staring, though, because Karkat’s skin is _warm,_ and he can _feel_ the hard muscle of his pectoral under the soft cushion of his chest, and there’s _hair,_ and he is just. So. Fucking. Hot.

He does his best not to cop too long of a feel down those thick, unfair arms as he pushes the shirt the rest of the way off; he’ll have plenty of time for that in a few minutes. There are more pressing matters at the moment, like lifting his arms to let Karkat tug his t-shirt off.

“No shit, I’m eager, have you seen you?” he asks. He’s so eager, in fact, that he completely forgets about the piercings that Karkat hasn’t seen yet. He had wanted to show them off, make a whole tease of it, but he barely even gives Karkat a chance to _see_ them before he’s leaning up to give him another heated, hungry kiss. 

Their bodies knock together, bare chest to bare chest, and his hands make friction with the front of Karkat’s slacks as he works open his own pants. He drops them to bunch around his ankles, and then he’s reaching up to wrap his arms around Karkat’s neck to kiss him even harder.

He kicks his pants the rest of the way off as he licks against Karkat’s tongue, using every dip and slide of the little gold ball to his advantage. He isn’t sure how many seconds pass before he’s breaking away to murmur a question.

“Do I get to watch you take your cock out for me, or do I get the honor of unwrapping it myself?”

Dave is kissing him, pressing their bare bodies together, and yet Karkat is just beginning to process what he just saw. A flash of gold on Dave, gone again now that Dave is pressing his lips against his. One hand runs up the bare skin of Dave’s back, finally touching his skin. Unable to help himself, the other races up Dave’s chest to find what that metal was, and his fingers run over Dave’s nipple. He pauses a thumb over, flicking the flesh he finds there in curiosity of Dave’s reaction. 

He sighs as Dave licks into his mouth, these kisses heating him back up to almost boiling over again.

“Sounds like you have a preference,” Karkat responds just as Dave gets to the bed, the edge pressing up against the back of his legs.

Karkat smirks a little and pushes him so that Dave falls back on the bed, right back into the position they were just in on the couch.

He doesn’t want to stop touching that piercing yet, but he can have more of that later. He also finally gets a moment to look Dave all over, ready and hard for him in nothing more than his briefs.

All for him. 

Dave moans in earnest as Karkat’s thumb presses over his nipple, over the bar that’s been shot through it. He arches into it, but it’s over all too quickly when Karkat’s firm hand is pushing him down onto the bed.

_Holy shit, he’s on Karkat’s actual bed._

He never got the chance to take in the room, for what it is, and he has a feeling he’s not going to until morning. At the moment, he’s far too busy getting an eyeful of the way Karkat’s tummy hairs all seem to pull in and point straight down, where they disappear behind the line of his slacks.

Looks like he’s doing it himself, then, because he’s not going to wait another fucking second.

He raises both hands to Karkat’s belt, and there’s not an ounce of hesitation left as he pulls it through the buckle. He’d do it with his fucking teeth, if Karkat didn’t just stop him in the living room. It feels like it’s in slow motion as he works open the button, then the zipper, and then he’s peeling open the pieces.

There’s _heat_ against his fingertips as he tucks them in to tug the slacks down. He watches with greedy eyes as the skin of Karkat’s thick thighs opens up to him. He only makes it so far, though, before he’s scrambling back up for the hem of Karkat’s underwear.

_This is it,_ he thinks. There’s no going back from here. 

To only the benefit of his own torture, he pulls them down slowly, watching, _watching_ as inch by inch of shaft peeks out at him. And then all at once, it’s bouncing up between his eyes, fat and hot and _dark._

He makes the most pathetic noise he’s probably ever made, and looks up at Karkat with pleading eyes. He half expects Karkat to tell him that he can’t touch it yet, no matter how fucking badly he craves it, so he waits patiently. Like a good boy.

The way Dave is looking at Karkat is digging under his skin and lighting his insides on fire. He’s just looking at Karkat like he can’t get enough. For a moment, he’s worried Dave might not like what he sees but the look in his eyes is still so full of desire for Karkat, just pure arousal. The noise Dave makes when he finally sees him is what drives him over the edge. He’s so hard for him already. 

He can’t help but grin a little at Dave’s reaction. “Don’t be shy, it’s going to be inside you later,” he jokes. “Er, only if you want to, of course.”

Unwilling to let this break the moment but glad to have given Dave the option, Karkat kneels on the bed, reaching back to untie his shoes as he leans forward and kisses Dave. His hand finds Dave’s chest again so he can continue exploring that reaction he had earlier, the desperate sound when Karkat touched him where the metal was. The sensation under his finger as he thumbs over it is new but very good, and he savors the way Dave moans and pushes into it, wanting more.

He kisses Dave and gives him the opportunity to touch him if he so pleases while he finishes getting the rest of his clothes off, until he’s finally not wearing anything. His other hand finds its way to holding Dave’s face again as the other stays on his chest, flicking over the piercing there.

He wants Dave to get comfortable with this, but Karkat’s also keen on getting him laid out on his bed so he can begin preparing him.

Finally he pulls away, unwilling to wait any longer. “Lay down for me… on your back.” 

Dave is putty in Karkat’s hands as the man kisses him. His head floats up into the clouds, dizzy and muddy with arousal. His body reacts on it’s own to Karkat’s touches, twitching up into every flick and rub over his nipple piercings. It’s been so long since he’s played with them himself, he’d almost forgotten how ungodly _sensitive_ they were.

He’s dead set on getting his hands wrapped around Karkat’s dick, too, but he never seems to get all the way there. It taunts him, the way it lays hot and heavy against his hip, burning into his skin like a brand. But every kiss and pull has Dave clutching to Karkat’s back, digging in with his fingertips, useless. 

When Karkat tells him to lay down, he’s hard pressed to actually listen. Laying down means moving further away. It means spending more than half a second without his body pressed against Karkat’s and he just _does not want to do that._

However. He does need to get the rest of his clothes off. So he uses the opportunity to tug his underwear off and kick them aside as he lays down. He stays propped up on his elbows for a moment, before deciding to go for the full effect and laying all the way down. From here, he can only look at Karkat through his lashes, his chest rising and falling with shallow pants.

He hasn’t said a word since Karkat first pushed him down, and maybe that’s out of character for him, but he’s far too into this to let his stupid mouth ruin it. Maybe he should have been letting Karkat take the lead from the beginning.

Karkat bites his lip as Dave lays out fully for him, his lovely dick sticking up right in the air. His eyes rake up and down Dave’s body, taking in the hair that trails thinly from under his belly button and down below to a thicker patch of blonde, looking over his youthful musculature, back up to the metal that pierces his chest in a way that Karkat admits is very visually pleasing.

Karkat can’t take his eyes off him as he walks along the side of the bed to his night stand, leaning over to open and dig through the drawer there. Thank fuck, still there.

He tosses the bottle onto the bed beside Dave’s face and kneels on it again, crawling over to Dave with one hand going for the bottle and one holding himself over Dave.

“You’re so attractive. Fuck, I can’t wait to be inside you,” he says as he leans down and kisses him again. It just doesn’t get any less addicting every time.

“Alright,” Karkat says when he pulls away, blinking down at him. “We’re gonna take this nice and slow. Are you… are you ready?” 

He has one job right now, and it’s not to fuck this up for Dave. 

Dave can only nod in response to Karkat’s question, still just giving him that same dreamy look. It’s sweet, how careful Karkat is being, and Dave doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he doesn’t have to. Dave isn’t going to break. He isn’t some fragile little thing Karkat needs to protect, but… well, Dave is going to let him protect him anyway.

“Can I tell you something?” he asks, breaking his own personal record for silence. “The first time we did this. After I asked you to stop… I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was driving me crazy, thinking about how hot and how hard you were when you were grinding between my legs.”

He bites his lip, his hips rocking up gently, to the mere memory of Karkat’s dick pressed against his ass.

“When I got home, I tried so fucking hard to fuck myself on my fingers, but I couldn’t get it right. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I couldn’t get you out of my head, so I kept trying. I came so many times, I knocked myself out for like twelve solid hours.”

He reaches up to touch Karkat’s hair, to run his fingers through it. His face is pink, but it’s only with desire. He’s not embarrassed to tell Karkat exactly how much he wants him, or how inexperienced he is. It’s not like any of it is a secret anymore.

“So what I’m trying to say is… I can’t wait either. You don’t need to ask me if I’m ready, because I’m already _dying.”_

The confession has Karkat reeling. When he was struggling over his attraction to Dave the other day… Dave was struggling too. He even tried to do what Karkat had implied to want from him in his office in the agony of it, while _thinking about Karkat too._

His eyes glance all over Dave’s face, taking in the raw, genuine look in his eyes.

Karkat kisses him again, hard, and then he pulls back until he’s on his knees by Dave’s hips, putting some lube on his finger and finally, reaching down between his legs and positioning himself so that he can easily see Dave’s face, all his reactions as he brushes right along the underside of his dick and below, looking for the tight ring of muscle. He starts rubbing the area, warming and getting it used to the sensation, slicking the area up for when he ultimately presses all the way in.

Karkat directs Dave to bend his legs up for him to give better access, and then watching his face, starts pressing his finger in til the first joint.

He reaches forward with his other hand, too far away to kiss him, and puts his thumb right over Dave’s nipple again, just rubbing gentle circles as he pushes in slow and smoothly.

“I suppose it’s only fair to tell you, then,” Karkat starts to say. “After the other day, in my office… I thought I was sick, I can’t even begin to tell you…. How much I wanted you. I’ve never wanted someone that much in my life before. I didn’t understand it. I was losing my mind over it, over you. I knew… if you came to talk to me alone again… I didn’t think I would be able to control myself.”

The finger slides further in, pushing deeper as the muscle relaxes in slow increments. 

Dave sucks in a breath as the first little bit of Karkat’s finger breaches him. It’s so surreal, it doesn’t seem like it’s real. It feels like he’s been waiting for it for so long, that it was never going to happen. But it’s _happening._ Karkat’s got his hands on him, has started to push inside him, and it all catches up to him at once and leaves him craving more.

It’s not as uncomfortable as when Dave tried to do it himself. Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s the fingers playing with his chest. Maybe it’s the outrageous amount of foreplay they just danced through building up to it. Whatever it is, it’s so good, it’s fucking perfect.

Dave lets out a frustrated noise as he listens to Karkat talk. Reliving it now, with Karkat finally touching him again, brings the memory to new heights. It’s so _stupid_ that Dave ran away like that when they both wanted each other so fucking bad. What a waste of time.

He keeps his hands firmly on the backs of his own knees, keeping his legs bent in the way Karkat instructed him to. He’s grateful for it, really, because he has a feeling he’s going to need something to grab onto very soon. The further Karkat pushes his finger in, the more restless Dave gets, his hips twitching with the effort it takes not to just… arch into it.

“It’s a good thing I came to talk to you, then…” he says, but his voice is tight now. “I guess we both needed this.”

Karkat watches Dave squirm as he pushes into him. He’s doing well so far. Maybe the alcohol helped, though Karkat suspects it to be a combination of things.

“Yeah,” he smiles down at Dave, not wanting to stop looking at him for even a single moment. “We both did.”

He gets his one finger down to the base, pulls it out, pushes back in, all slow and measured. No need to go fast, yet. He wants Dave to feel everything. He wants it to feel _good._ Yes, he’s ready to be inside Dave, his dick between his legs honestly aching to feel Dave squeezing around it, but he’s not going to rush this and make it a bad time for him. Karkat knows better. 

Removing his hand from Dave’s chest, he quickly adds a little more lube to slick up between his legs.

“We did need it, but you didn’t help either. I’d say it was your fault, even,” Karkat starts as he adds the second finger, just as slow in entry this time as he was with the first finger. “I couldn’t stop thinking about the piercing, and somehow you knew I couldn’t. It felt like you were trying to torture me. But then I kissed you, and you kissed me back, and you left… fuck, Dave. I don’t know what it is about you that drives me so crazy.” 

With that he gets the second finger slipped all the way in, and he crooks both up, searching for the spot in Dave that he hopes will drive him just as crazy as he’s made Karkat.

At the same time, he leans forward and, driven by the small noises Dave seems to make with attention to the area, runs his tongue over Dave’s nipple, now hardened from the stimulation. 

Dave definitely feels every bit of the second finger. It’s a stretch, a little unnatural, but again nothing he can’t handle. He can feel Karkat starting to move them around, and somehow it’s just… _good._

His legs easily fall further apart to let Karkat’s body through. He gasps softly and sighs as Karkat’s tongue rolls over his nipple. He arches his back, hums pleasantly, and even lets out a little breathless laugh.

“It’s easy to tell, when people like the piercing,” he says. He brings one hand down from his knee to gently hold the back of Karkat’s head, encouraging him on. “For starters, you keep looking at my--”

Dave gasps sharply, immediately followed by a _’Fuck!’_ and a long moan. The fingers still moving inside him touch _something_ and it shocks him with a whole new wave of pleasure. His head rolls back into the bed, everything elevating all at once.

He pulls Karkat closer by the back of his head, his moan tapering off into a whine. “Fuck,” he says again. Okay, he definitely didn’t do _that_ on his own. He knew it was possible, vaguely, but he couldn’t seem to do it.

_Karkat,_ though… seems more than knowledgeable on the subject. “Okay, big guy, I think I’m fucking ready,” he decides. It doesn’t matter if he is or not, he just wants that _feeling_ railed into him over and over by Karkat’s dick.

_Big guy, huh?_

Yes, he’s flattered, but something about it bothers him. He can’t exactly put his finger on why just yet, unlike the very physical finger he has on the pleasure button he’s found inside of Dave.

Karkat smirks as Dave reacts, and when he’s inside, doing this to Dave, it’s hard for that glint in his eye not to return. He pulls his mouth from from Dave’s chest but stays leaning over him, still wanting it clear that Dave is under his control… The push to dominate, that little part of his brain that he tucked away a few minutes ago, it’s coming back and even stronger this time.

Dave appears to be very sensitive, if that reaction was anything to go off of. Karkat wonders if he might actually be able to make him come without touching his dick. Fuck, he just wants to blow Dave’s mind.

“Oh, you think you’re ready?” He asks, clearly teasing.

Karkat pulls his fingers out and then pushes in again, aiming for the spot that made him yelp. Then he repeats, making sure he’s not straining Dave as he does, and starts to pick up the pace, aiming again and again for that area inside him, going a little faster each time.

“What for, Dave?” 

What for? Is that a joke? For anything Karkat is willing to give him. For another finger. For him to stop messing around and just fuck him already.

With another good stroke of Karkat’s fingers though, his breath shutters. His eyes close as tight as he is wound up inside. He settles on just saying “More… Ready for more.”

He assumes that Karkat is only teasing him, and what he really wants to know is if Dave’s body hurts. Which it doesn’t. So for emphasis, he rocks his ass up into Karkat’s hand. It doesn’t really do much, by way of hitting that spot in him, but Karkat seems to be doing just fine in that department without any fucking help.

He’s playing Dave so well already, that his cock is leaking where it lies against his stomach. He wants to touch it so badly, but from where Karkat sits between his legs, that’s not going to happen. He feels closed in, trapped, helpless, but all in a way that lets him _trust._ He’s completely at Karkat’s will, and he’s fine with that.

“Just…” he starts to say, but it’s getting harder and harder to think. Thoughts float around in his head, but none of them really land. He’s hot, and he’s breathing carefully, and he kind of wishes he were being kissed. Or that Karkat would put his mouth on his chest again. Or… fuck, he doesn’t even know.

He’s overwhelmed and he wants to cum and he wants to do it with Karkat inside him. He bites his lip and looks up at Karkat, pleading with him to understand.

Either he’s being stubborn, or Karkat’s just doing too much a number on him. It doesn’t matter, it’s fun to watch him fall apart and beg with everything but that mouth.

It’s still not enough for Karkat.

“That’s not what I asked,” he says, giving one shove that might actually be a bit too much. He eases up, but not by much, just going back to the same intensity that was making Dave writhe.

Dave looks like he’s losing it. Maybe that’s why he’s having trouble talking, he’s really getting lost in it.

Karkat glances down at Dave’s stomach and sees his cock already leaking. He knows he can do it. He can make Dave come just like this. The thought that he has this control over Dave is like a drug. He wants more of this, whatever it is. He loves the way Dave almost appears reduced down to wordless mush at his hand. Literally just his fingers, not even the full of his cock bearing into Dave.

Karkat’s eyes roam back up his body, over his tensing abs and the barely controlled rise and fall of his chest. Dave is looking at him through dark slitted eyes, biting his lip. No, he’s coherent enough to answer Karkat, to tell him what exactly it is he wants from him. Karkat will take it from him either way, he doesn’t care what it takes.

Either Dave comes, or he desperately begs Karkat to finally fuck him.

“What happened? What happened to all those words you enjoyed giving me so much before, hm?” He’s poking at him, but then his voice drops again, back to that husky and commanding tone. “Tell me what you want, Dave. Tell me what you need.”

Is it Karkat’s dick? Is it to come? Karkat can help with both, he just needs to say it first. 

The one hard thrust has Dave crying out, and then continuing to whine as Karkat _doesn’t stop._ It’s so good, he’s coming right up to his edge already, and Karkat has barely even touched him. Of all the things he’s done so far to embarrass himself, this is probably the worst. He’s not usually this quick, but it’s just…

It takes him a belated moment to catch up, to realize that Karkat _wants_ him to talk. He closes his fuzzy eyes and swallows his breath. He can totally do it, he’s got this.

“I need you,” he says, and god, does he really sound that pathetic right now Fuck. “It’s so good, shit, I’m going to cum before you even fuck me. Those hands should come with a _warning: will make you nut too quick.”_

He has to stop to take a breath, shuddering as another wave of heat hits him. He wants Karkat so badly, it’s devastating. His legs are bent all the way to the sides of his chest, at this point, so he lets them go to wrap around Karkat’s neck instead.

“I want to feel your dick in me. God, I haven’t even gotten to fucking touch it yet. I wanted to let you have my tongue, but if you don’t fuck me soon, I might break. Please, just…” He’s right up on the peak now, so close to being pushed over. He pushes his hips into Karkat’s fingers with a pitiful whine. “I want to cum, _please,_ fucking Christ. And then I want you to fill me with that cock and fuck me until I cum again.”

Dave starts babbling, and all Karkat does is look smugly down at him. So Dave has wanted to go down on him. Even now, Karkat aches for Dave’s mouth just as much as he wants to fuck him, but he’s not complaining. 

“You want my cock?” Karkat says, grinning at Dave. That’s what he wanted to hear. He wanted to know Dave was aching to be filled with him. “You need to come first. No touching yourself, either.” 

He’s going to do it, he’s going to make Dave come just like this, once and then again and again… 

Dave wraps his legs around his neck and Karkat has no issue with that, whatever is most comfortable for Dave. He can keep up the pace of his arm like this. But Karkat can tell he’s still holding on. 

“Relax,” he commands. “You’re going to come, just breathe and let it happen. I promise I’ll fuck you after. I’ll give you as much as you can take.” He keeps up the pace of his fingers within Dave, making sure he’s getting as much sensation to the sensitive spot within him as he can. Dave doesn’t realize how lucky he is. 

“Relax, Dave. Come for me.” 

Dave was already close to begin with, but with the extra attention and Karkat’s soothing words, he’s absolutely done for. Without ever even touching his own dick, he’s cumming harder than he has in months.

His hips grind down into Karkat’s hand, and he squirms uselessly under the weight of Karkat’s body. Every nerve in his body is hot, and he doesn’t have the time to come off it, because Karkat is _still touching him_ and he wants so much more.

“Fuck, man,” he says, and it tapers off into a whine as his ass squeezes down on Karkat’s fingers. His head is still arched back into the bed, leaving his neck and chest open for Karkat to see.

His mind comes back online enough to register some of what Karkat said. _As much as you can take,_ he said. It makes Dave grin stupid and look back up at him. “I didn’t know you were going to give me the deluxe treatment. I wonder how many orgasms you can give me before you get tired.”

It’s a playful tease, only slightly maybe implying that Karkat is too old to keep up with him. With as hard as he just came, though, Dave is positive that Karkat will be able to wear him out. He can only imagine what the next one will be like. He can only _imagine_ what that thick cock is going to feel like pushing into him.

It’s only now that he wonders if it’s going to hurt… Something that big shoving inside where only two fingers have ever been Maybe that’s what all this _let me take care of you_ shit has been about. Karkat won’t let it hurt, right?

He hopes he doesn’t look worried.

Watching Dave come is intensely satisfying. Karkat takes it in hungrily, the delicate arch of his neck and back, the way his muscles tense and relax and tense again as he orgasms. He can feel Dave squeezing around his fingers, and he wonders how it will feel when it’s his cock next time. 

The _noises_ he makes, though. 

Karkat wants to lean down and lick at the piercing again. Instead he runs a hand up the bare skin of Dave’s chest, almost getting to his neck, but he pauses as he realizes what’s been bothering him.

Dave hasn’t used his name very much, if at all, actually. Which. Yes, that’s fine, he supposes. But like most people, Karkat does enjoy hearing his own name. He wants Dave to be admitting, maybe yelling, to the world that it’s Karkat doing this to him. 

He just smiles softly back as Dave pants and recovers below him in the wake of his first prostate orgasm. 

“I suppose we’ll have to see,” he responds. With how inexperienced Dave is, he won’t give much credence to his jibing of his age or whatever. Where Dave may have his youth, Karkat has him beat with knowledge and experience. Karkat knows himself, and Dave doesn’t. “But those are some choice words for someone who just came out his ass for the first time.”


	7. Chapter 7

With a sigh Karkat pulls his fingers out of Dave, briefly considering that this bedding will need a serious wash, as he reaches again for the bottle to apply lube to himself. Karkat gets up on his knees between Dave’s legs so that Dave can watch as he strokes himself, letting him see the difference between his fingers and the girth and length he’s about to take. 

The lube transfers over and soon his dick is covered in a slick layer. Letting himself get into it, he keeps stroking to get himself back to full hardness, letting out a little moan of satisfaction as he looks down at Dave below him. 

He stops stroking but holds his dick as he leans to plant one arm at Dave’s side and lower himself down, until he’s poking at Dave’s entrance. 

“Are you ready to take a cock for the first time? It’s not too late to back out.” Karkat pushes forward with his hips, pressing into the loosened ring of muscle only slightly as he smirks at him. If Dave can play, surely he can as well. 

Dave sucks in a breath as Karkat’s cock presses up against him. Now is  _ not _ the time to panic, he wants this, he wants it so fucking badly. He wouldn’t want it so badly if it were going to hurt, right? And Karkat’s fingers didn’t hurt, he was so gentle, and honestly it blew Dave’s mind, so…

It’s fine. It’s totally, definitely fine. He’s ready to get his mind blown again.

“I thought I told you to quit asking me,” he says, even if he himself just got done questioning whether or not he was ready. It’s playful, though, and he rolls his hip to encourage Karkat to keep going.

He’s been more than pent up, and watching Karkat stroke himself for him,  _ just for him to see _ did not fucking help. He’s hungry for it, and holy shit, how did he ever think he wasn’t at least a little bit gay?  _ How _ can he crave that cock inside him so badly, and live under the delusion of being 100% straight at the same time?

That’s toxic masculinity for you.

He locks his ankles loosely behind Karkat’s back and brings his own hands up to touch at his own chest. He rolls each nub between his fingers, tugs lightly at the bars in them. He can’t take his eyes off the man above him.

“Come on, big daddy, I’m waiting for you…” he says, all honey and sweet.

Karkat keeps smiling at him, even though the words make him flush a little.  _ Daddy, _ he said. Except for some reason it doesn’t feel as charged when Dave says it like that. Not that Karkat doesn’t like it, it’s just… 

“Big daddy, hm?” He starts to say as he puts one hand on Dave’s hip and begins to push against the muscle, into the hole he fingered open. 

Oh fuck, he had been waiting for this. Dave is only a little too tight, just ever so slightly, to take his dick, but Karkat knows he can handle it. He knows it might ache a little, but that it’s a good ache, a sweet burn. 

Dave knows well enough he can stop him if it’s too much. 

He wants Dave’s focus to be entirely on the dick entering him, so he takes both of Dave’s hands from his chest and moves to press both of his forearms into the bed. He likes Dave like this, with nowhere to go, at the mercy of him alone, folded up all nice but still open for Karkat. 

Karkat watches his face and body for discomfort, still looking to make sure that what he’s mostly feeling is pleasure. But considering how much Dave enjoyed being fingered, his cock still dripping over his stomach a reminder, Karkat isn’t terribly worried. It’s gratifying. He lets himself enjoy the slick movement of forcing Dave open for a moment before he continues to speak. 

It’s just... 

“You do realize,” he says as he gets halfway into Dave, relentlessly pushing further and further, his own voice straining slightly with the indescribably good squeeze of Dave around him. He groans as he finally gets to the base, seating himself fully within Dave. “That I have a name?” 

With that, against better judgement, he tests Dave, pulling out and thrusting back in once to drive his point home. He should have let Dave relax first, but fuck if he just doesn’t want to claim that ass right now. 

Dave is overwhelmed as Karkat holds him down. It adds a whole new element of hopeless pleasure to the mix, to not be  _ allowed _ to touch himself. This back and forth between Karkat being gentle and Karkat being too much only serves to let Dave  _ feel it _ that much more every time. Appreciate every single move Karkat makes for what it is.

As he’s filled, he makes these helpless little noises, because it  _ does _ hurt, but it’s not as bad as he thought. The stretch is hot, pulling and splitting him open over that cock he hasn’t been able to take his eyes off. And it just keeps  _ going _ and going and going. When he told Karkat to fill him up, he had no idea exactly what that meant, until now.

He doesn’t even have a second to realize it when he’s full, before Karkat is pulling back and stuffing back in. It makes him cry out and throw his head back against the bed. He struggles under Karkat’s hold, just to be able to use his hands. He wants to  _ grab _ Karkat, but he’s the one that’s being grabbed.

It’s so much, it’s so good, and then Karkat is talking to him, and Dave doesn’t understand what he’s saying. Karkat has a name? Of course he does, what kind of thing is that to say?

Does he want Dave to say it? Dave can do that.

“F… Fuck, Karkat,” he moans, and as it leaves his mouth, something hits him. This is… a whole person on top of him. Karkat isn’t just some fantasy, or a queer experiment, or some intangible thing, he’s a  _ person. _

A fucking real live person with a name who is holding him down as he fucks into him.  _ Dave is having actual gay sex with an actual person, _ Jesus Christ.

“Jesus Christ,” he repeats. He’s tense all over now, but it’s not the pleasure making him do it this time. His hands clench into fists where they lie uselessly, and his eyes stay shut just as tightly. He doesn’t want to open them right now.

“Fuck me until I can’t think anymore…” he says. It sounds tight, maybe desperate. Desperate is fine, it’s what he is anyway. He doesn’t want to think about the very real person above him, or the very real possibility of buried feelings.

Karkat loves the way Dave moans his name. He almost isn’t even expecting it, and it shudders through him, causing an entirely reflexive thrust into Dave. 

He savors the little sounds Dave makes, delicious noises he wants to muffle with a kiss, but he holds back to watch him. He looks so tensely coiled up, Karkat is worried for a moment that it is too much before Dave is begging him to fuck him brainless. 

“I can do that,” Karkat laughs gruffly. 

With that he starts to thrust, picking up the pace as he tests the slick drag of himself inside Dave. He’s  _ tight. _ Had Karkat been younger, he isn’t sure he would be able to last. 

“Dave, you feel amazing,” Karkat breaths, unable to help himself. He leans forward and tucks his face into Dave’s neck, kissing the soft expanse there gently. Then resting his forehead against the crook of his neck, Karkat starts to focus on actually fucking him the way Dave wants him too. His hands stay where they are, pressing Dave’s wrists into the mattress, though both start to slip. One goes to thumb at Dave’s palm with fingers firmly encircling his wrist, the other is moving to slot his hand with Dave’s, weaving their fingers together. Karkat is barely paying attention to it, it just  _ happens.  _

“How does it feel?” He has to know if Dave actually likes it, if the way he looks, almost lost in it, matches how he feels. “Do you like having me inside you?” Better yet, can he make Dave come again like this? Karkat will hold his own orgasm off for as long as possible, he wants to watch Dave take him for as long as he can. 

Karkat’s little laugh melts into Dave, making him compliant all over again. His voice echoes in Dave’s head as his body is slowly rocked by each thrust. 

It’s not like anything he’s ever experienced or could have prepared for. He can feel every bit of the stretch splitting him open, every time Karkat shoves back inside him. He shivers, turning his face to the side, like it will help him cope with the overwhelming feeling.

“It’s good,” he breathes, when Karkat asks. When he tries to fist his hand again, there’s… another hand in his. He squeezes the hand, and god damn, he’s fucking melting again. Are they really fucking holding hands right now? It’s so… ridiculous. So stupid. So... perfectly comforting while his body struggles to adjust to everything that’s happening.

It doesn’t help him forget that Karkat is really here doing this with him, though.

The thing that helps him forget? The thick, unyielding cock that’s thrusting in and out of him and turning his brain to mush. He’s hot and he’s breathless, and clinging to the hand in his is probably the only thing keeping him together.

“So good,” he says again, because Karkat is  _ asking him, _ and he’s quickly slipping away, so he needs to ground himself  _ somehow. _ “Love you inside me... Love you f-... fucking me. It’s so much, I’m--”

Dave stops to bite his lip. His mouth is dry and he’s quickly losing it. How do words work again? He’s not used to being on the receiving end of this much attention. He’s usually the one serving it, so on top of everything else… he’s drowning.

“Y-you’re so fucking good, Karkat, it’s not fair...”

His own cock is heavy and red again where it lies between them. It smears with old cum and new precum and it’s just… a mess. Dave is a mess. Dave is a  _ fucking mess. _

Karkat pushes his forehead into Dave’s neck as he babbles away. It’s terribly satisfying, knowing that he’s the one reducing Dave to this incoherency. Hearing Dave moan about how good he feels… it’s hard to keep Karkat on the task and not come already. Karkat can tell he’s driving Dave crazy, and he savors all of his breathless noises and gasps. Karkat also finds he loves the way his name rolls off Dave’s tongue, already an addicting sound. The desire to keep hearing it powers Karkat on, even as he starts to feel himself wear just a bit. 

He pulls away from Dave’s neck to kiss those agape lips, almost as breathless with how hard he’s working to maintain this pace. Honestly, as amazing as the drag of Karkat’s dick inside Dave feels, watching him fall apart is almost better. Karkat doesn’t want to be done yet, not when he’s not done breaking him down. 

“Fuck, Dave, you’re incredible,” he murmurs into Dave’s mouth, before Karkat drops his lips to right beside Dave’s ear so that he can whisper into it. “You look so good like this… I love watching you take me…” Karkat doesn’t know why he’s saying all that either, but he knows Dave might honestly be making him go just as crazy as he’s making Dave. Fuck, he’s not done with ruining him, not even a little bit. 

Karkat can’t help himself. “You feel so fucking good… I want to watch you come again. Can you come again for me, Dave? Can you come with just my cock inside you?” He changes it up once, just giving one rough thrust into Dave before he falls back into the same pattern, trying to find what will drive Dave all the way to the edge once more. 

Somehow, knowing that Karkat  _ wants _ him to cum only pushes him that much further. Hearing Karkat tell him that he wants to see it… It makes him want to put himself on display. Put on a show and cum  _ just for him, _ like a good boy should do.

As if he’s not enough of a spectacle as he already is, he doesn’t even have to try. He’s sure he looks a fucking mess. He almost wishes he could cover up under the safety of his shades, but… Karkat’s words resonate in his head. Karkat  _ likes _ seeing him like this. Wants to see him falling apart. Wants to watch him cum on his cock alone.

Well, that’s not going to be a fucking problem.

He drowns in the kisses, unable to make his voice make words beyond little moans and gasps. He clings to the hand in his like it’s a lifeline, squeezing and praying to never be let go.

The extra hard thrust has him reeling, tears welling up in his eyes but not falling. _ “Fuck...” _ he chokes out. His dick twitches with the last efforts of holding onto his second orgasm, but Karkat’s words ring in his head again.

_ ’I want to watch you cum again, with just my cock inside you.’ _

And he wants to give Karkat what he wants  _ so badly. _ It pulses through him and makes him tremble, and then he’s cumming again with a strained, helpless cry. “Karkat-- fuck,  _ fuck, _ Ka..” he gets cut off by a gasp as another shock of pleasure hits him. He feels like he’s falling apart, split open and cracking into pieces on that beautiful, thick cock.

If he’d known it would make him cum this hard, he never would have hesitated. Flashes of Karkat pushing him over the desk in his office make him shudder.

“K… kiss me,” he pleads, nails digging into Karkat’s hand like he can’t control himself.

It’s incredible. Karkat can’t take his eyes off Dave as he comes for him,  _ again, _ a writhing, sweaty oh-so beautiful mess. As focused as Karkat is on maintaining the pace and not coming himself, he manages to enjoy the view, amazed that it doesn’t drive him over the edge. He really is trying hard not to let it. 

“Perfect,” Karkat gasps before he leans down and presses his lips to Dave’s and fulfill his request. Their mouths crash together and Karkat feels himself nearing his limit as he forms his mouth to Dave’s, tongue reaching in and brushing against the piercing again. Dave tastes amazing, Karkat is amazed by their complementary pheromones. It’s like a perfect match— Dave just tastes so undeniably good. 

Karkat moves his hand holding him up under Dave’s head, cradling it while resting most of his weight on his elbow. As his fingers take hold of Dave’s hair and he licks over the piercing, it all becomes too much. 

He breaks away from the kiss for only a second. “Dave…” he gasps against his lips. “I’m gonna…”

He shouldn’t come inside Dave. It’s a high of the moment decision, like every single one leading up to this, and it hardly counts as an excuse. 

But selfishly, he doesn’t want to pull out. Though this is the first time the young man has taken a cock, it’s not enough for Karkat. He wants to fill him up and watch himself leak out of Dave when he pulls out. It’s vulgar, dominating, an impulsive need to claim even if it doesn’t really mean he’s claiming anything. 

He clenches up tight, holding on for Dave, waiting for him to indicate if he wants Karkat to pull out or if Karkat should continue as he desperately wants and finally, deliciously, let it out inside of him. But god, if Dave doesn’t decide soon, Karkat might have to make the decision for him, and he is not really in any decision making capacity at all in this moment. 

Dave is grateful for the kiss. He presses up into it like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. His free hand, the one that’s not still being  _ held, _ fuck, he pushes it up into Karkat’s hair and holds him close as he rocks his hips down, meeting each of karkat’s thrusts through his orgasm.

But… Karkat doesn’t stop. The idea that Karkat is going to try to make him cum a third time makes him delirious. There’s no fucking way, right? It’s starting to  _ hurt, _ his entire body cold with sweat and so hot beneath the surface. He aches, overstimulated, but Karkat hasn’t even cum a single time yet. Does age really come with that kind of stamina? Jesus fucking christ.

Even as it starts to feel raw, he pulls his legs tighter around Karkat’s hips. It doesn’t even cross his mind to let Karkat pull out. It might be selfish, might make him  _ slutty, _ but if Karkat isn’t done then he’s going to take every last drop that he can get. He’ll ride Karkat dry, keep going until they’re both sore and passing out.

He rocks his hips still, pulling a pained whine from his own throat. It disappears in Karkat’s mouth, though, as he continues to kiss him desperately. He needs the affection now more than ever. Every nerve inside him is alight, hyper aware of every thick inch of Karkat’s cock pushing into him.

It’s honestly not fair for Karkat to last this long when he’s already cum twice. It makes him want to take matters into his own hands, find out exactly what makes the older man lose control. He thinks about that hot, fat cock on his tongue again, and he finds himself biting down on Karkat’s lip.

He drags his teeth over the sensitive flesh, not hard enough to hurt, but to pull  _ something _ out of him. He slides his tongue with Karkat’s, pressing that piercing into his professor’s mouth. He’s tired, and it might take him a minute to get it up again, but he’s definitely prepared to keep going if that’s what Karkat wants.

God, Karkat is so fucking good. So hot. It’s ridiculous how fucking attractive he is, how well his cock drags against Dave’s walls. “You’re so sexy…” he murmurs between kisses. “I’m so full… God, you fill me up so well… Karkat…”

The name makes a nervous thrill run through him again.  _ Karkat, Karkat. _ He feels small under the weight on top of him. Under the  _ man _ on top of him. The man that’s taking such good care of him. Fuck.

It’s a combination of things that finally makes Karkat come: Dave locking his legs around him, pushing the piercing into his mouth, and finally the way Dave says his name. 

Karkat couldn’t pull away from him even if he tried. Everything about this is wrong and bad but he’s lost in the high, this screaming peak. 

“Oh, Dave,” Karkat gasps into his mouth between those hot, open mouthed kisses. With that he’s finally releasing inside him, his pace stuttering as his muscles contract with the mind-blanking pleasure as it shoots up within Dave. 

It’s so hot. He moans into Dave’s mouth, hands gripping tightly where they are holding on to him as he rides it out, horrifically turned on by the idea of his student being fucked full with his come. He finishes off his orgasm by thrusting all the way in, unable to get any further into Dave, and stops. Still panting to catch his breath, he kisses Dave one more time, waiting for the inevitable crash and freak out to hit him. 

Thankfully it doesn’t, all he can do is keep kissing Dave gently as they come down from this, waiting for one of them to finally say something and break this new awkward silence. 

Karkat is exhausted. The post-orgasm sleepiness is quick to set in, but it’s not strong enough to overweigh the fear that is quickly making itself home in his chest. 

Dave has never felt anything like it, the way Karkat’s cum spills inside him. It’s hot-- both physically, and the way it makes arousal throb through him again. It sears inside him, and he can only imagine the mess Karkat makes of his insides as he continues to fuck through it.

God, that’s disgusting. It’s so fucking dirty and erotic, he can’t help kissing Karkat even harder. Even as Karkat slows to a stop, he  _ stays inside Dave _ and the ache is so fucking good, it makes his head spin.

As their kisses slow, he doesn’t stop holding Karkat. All the tension in his body fizzles away, and he’s left with warmth and pleasant exhaustion. His legs stay wrapped around Karkat, if only looser than before. His hands stay in Karkat’s hair. His lips feel raw by now, but he still doesn’t want to stop. Karkat is addicting.

He’s in over his head, it seems.

As the wet sounds of kissing and heavy breathing die down, Dave hums against Karkat’s lips. “Damn,” he says, quiet, sated. “I think you might have wore me out a little. Props.”

His eyes are closed, heavy with exhaustion. It’s only as Karkat’s dick starts to soften inside him that it becomes uncomfortable. He shifts a little, making a short noise of discomfort. He still doesn’t hate it, but it’s just… a lot more weird now, more raw, less mind blowing. He can feel his ass trying to flutter around it and that’s just-- that’s just fucking lewd, isn’t it?

He slides his hands out of Karkat’s hair to wrap around his neck instead. He presses another soft kiss to the corner of Karkat’s mouth, and it borders dangerously on something that might feel like  _ feelings. _ It’s definitely affectionate, and it makes him squirm a little again. He doesn’t want to think about what this means right now, he just wants to enjoy himself, damnit.

“Uh... thanks,” he tacks on. Karkat was just doing him a favor, right? Mission accomplished. Everyone can go home now.

He kind of… doesn’t want to go home, though.

Karkat’s breathing finally evens out, and he stays there with Dave wrapped around him, a sticky mess between them now. 

Dave can’t stop kissing him, and Karkat can’t stop kissing him back. If Karkat was being honest, he didn’t want to stop kissing Dave. He’d never experienced such an addictive mouth before, in more than one way. 

They both slowly relax in each other’s arms, and Karkat savors it, even as part of his brain warns him that the other shoe is going to drop soon and he’ll have more than just the mess of their shared cum to deal with.

He can’t believe he came inside Dave like that, it had been so delicious, and though they are still locked together he can’t wait to see him spill out when he finally separates from Dave’s body. The thought is as vulgar as it is immediately arousing all over again, though his cock continues to soften in the wake of all that intensity. 

He opens his eyes, just little slits, and looks down at Dave just as the young man places hands around his neck. Karkat slides one hand under his head where it rests on his bed, probably comfortable without them, but he wants to feel that hair through his fingers in case he doesn’t get the chance to again. 

He chuckles softly as Dave compliments that he wore him out. Karkat is feeling similarly worn out himself, exhausted even. Then Dave thanks him, bewilderingly. Karkat can’t fathom why that is, practically forgetting the whole point of this other than the maddening attraction he felt for the young man in his arms. 

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “It was… my pleasure.” Okay, maybe that was actually pretty smooth. 

He smiles as he looks down at Dave, who isn’t looking at him but he wishes he was. He really is beautiful, especially this up close. 

The stickiness between them becomes suddenly unbearable. Karkat clears his throat and starts to pull out of him. 

“Sorry, I should probably….” He shifts, Dave’s loosened legs around him letting him move away this time. With that he’s now holding himself over Dave, still not wanting to leave the bed with him in it but knowing he has to. “.... Clean up,” he finishes uncomfortably. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all thanks so much for reading with us this far!
> 
> The next chapter will come after a bit of a hiatus so please be patient with us. <3

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! If you want more of this and other awesome content, you are welcome to join our discord server.
> 
> [Strilonde RP Jamz](https://discord.gg/y2b9Eu2)


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